A Simple Musing...
STUCK IN TIME
Persistance haunts.
Its as much as an emotional conundrum as a physical one.
In attemts to study 'worm' and 'stage' theoretic,
thoughts often lack any sort of logical connection between them.
Yet, concurrent with my studies, a burn of seperation between clocks,
the one at my home and the one at school, is never scarce.
Three zones of time put me in a different world. Billy Collins is right.
I wonder if the same me persists during my time travels.
While I'm in the same conversation here and there, I miss home.
I come home, and the burn is even greater.
Unfortunatley, the travel likes to play jokes on the traveller.
My home is good and familiar, but I'm too taught.
My words are streched and wound too tightly between the moments I've lived.
Three hours of my life have been cut, and I haven't been told which ones.
I realize the depth of the oft-too-quoted-sentence, "I am no longer who I once was."
But it seems silly. Obvious. Absurd.
The sun rises on my friends.
I've long been in a sweat.
I wish for my three hours, but perstistence just won't grant
to have the me who writes to ever sail back.
Persistance haunts.
Its as much as an emotional conundrum as a physical one.
In attemts to study 'worm' and 'stage' theoretic,
thoughts often lack any sort of logical connection between them.
Yet, concurrent with my studies, a burn of seperation between clocks,
the one at my home and the one at school, is never scarce.
Three zones of time put me in a different world. Billy Collins is right.
I wonder if the same me persists during my time travels.
While I'm in the same conversation here and there, I miss home.
I come home, and the burn is even greater.
Unfortunatley, the travel likes to play jokes on the traveller.
My home is good and familiar, but I'm too taught.
My words are streched and wound too tightly between the moments I've lived.
Three hours of my life have been cut, and I haven't been told which ones.
I realize the depth of the oft-too-quoted-sentence, "I am no longer who I once was."
But it seems silly. Obvious. Absurd.
The sun rises on my friends.
I've long been in a sweat.
I wish for my three hours, but perstistence just won't grant
to have the me who writes to ever sail back.
posted by pLiosAlfar | 9:15 PM
1 Comments:
i didn't really understand the worm and stage part, could you help me with that? i really like the line "my words are stretched and would too tightly between the moments i've lived" and i wondered which billy collins poem you were thinking of.
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