Saturday, November 30, 2013


In the future time boils,
yellow-orange, red-hot,
magma, bubbling toward the present
like sand grains at the
brink of their destiny
before their fall.

Time rises, unseen before
it breaks the surface
of our consciousness and rides
our expectations like a molten
river rushing down a mountain side
to the sea...

And hits that moment,
that steamy moment when it freezes
and becomes now, then it's lost
under the waves, eroding until
even the fact it's forgotten
is in the past.

**From a completed Weekly Poetry Challenge in 2013. The topic: Time.
© 2013 Mach B

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