Time is the widest ocean
Time is the widest ocean.
Here, standing on the shore
where I find myself stranded,
carried by waves and drifting on currents,
gazing now across the violent waters
to a past I can now almost barely see,
but only long for,
I look towards the distance:
to where we had been,
the distance we had traveled,
to what we had done to bring us where we are.
It is a nostalgia
for a place no longer there.
But time is like your leaving, too, my dear,
to the other side of world,
where shores are no strangers
to muted partings and
physical distances do not apply.
For though you may be where you are,
And I may be where I am,
We are separated by more than this ocean.
Between us and time, there is no returning.
Nor is there safe harbor to welcome me home.
Here, standing on the shore
where I find myself stranded,
carried by waves and drifting on currents,
gazing now across the violent waters
to a past I can now almost barely see,
but only long for,
I look towards the distance:
to where we had been,
the distance we had traveled,
to what we had done to bring us where we are.
It is a nostalgia
for a place no longer there.
But time is like your leaving, too, my dear,
to the other side of world,
where shores are no strangers
to muted partings and
physical distances do not apply.
For though you may be where you are,
And I may be where I am,
We are separated by more than this ocean.
Between us and time, there is no returning.
Nor is there safe harbor to welcome me home.
ahem ahem. your poem seems to refer to someone in particular. or is it just me? hehe.
let go, peej. =) if you were meant together, not even time or space can keep you apart.
Posted by
anna su |
12:44 PM
It's not so much not letting go, shadowhunter, than it is of remembering: of properly marking the event in time, and setting it apart from any other event.
Make no mistake about it, it is totally weird; and yet, it is, I guess, at the same time, inevitable.
But as they say, we face each morning with courage. Where ever all of us may be, therefore, let us pray for each other's happiness.
Posted by
Peej Bernardo |
2:40 AM
Sie mochte kein blodes Gedicht. Ein Halm Gras ist mehr als genug.
Sie hat mich gern gehabt, das solltest du wissen.
Posted by
Anonymous |
12:47 AM
Mein Deutsche ist nicht also gut, aber ich versuche zu reagieren:
Ich stimme: ein Halm Gras sollte genug sein.
Aber manchmal, werden wir verwirrt durch, was wir wünschen, wenn in der Wirklichkeit, alles, das wir benötigen, ein Blatt des Grases ist.
Und dann finden wir, daß es nicht mehr angeboten wird.
Did that make sense?
Posted by
Peej Bernardo |
8:12 PM