The word - and it is only one this week - is Time.
Measuring the Parenthesis
Between the
Time we are born.
and the
Time we die.
And the parenthesis is all that matters.
And we never know the parenthesis, truly.
Because our beginnings are shrouded in fog and instinct,
Remembered by others now long dead.
And then Death moves unexpectedly for its moment with us,
Remembered by others still living.
So no one writes our full parenthesis.
Not even ourselves.
I like this very much. Very much!
ReplyDeleteThank you Cindi!
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Oh, well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you River!
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Indeed, we don't remember our birth and we don't remember our death. And there's a lot more in between that I don't remember, also shrouded in fog and instinct!
ReplyDeleteTrue Dat, Nick!
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Life is only between parenthesis. Nicely done.
ReplyDeleteTiny ones at that :)
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What lies outside the parenthesis on either end?
ReplyDeleteSo many other parentheses?
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What a touching tribute to Time. Love it.
ReplyDeleteThank you Gigi :)
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Such a succinct expression of the essence of time. I am in awe!
ReplyDeleteThank you Joanne!
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Beautiful use of a word that can, if teased, be filled with mystery, WWW. Loved it!
ReplyDeleteYes T, the more I pondered it the more mysterious it became. I can no longer figure it out. Something so simple one would think and then so complicated.
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This is wise indeed. I do love the diagrams!
ReplyDeleteThank you Rachel!
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Wow! That was amazing.
ReplyDeleteThank you OSC!
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You are clever and inventive. Chapeau!
ReplyDeleteThank you Friko, I am wondering where I am on my own parenthesis.
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