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When the Time Comes
When the time comes
as inevitable as it is
it still feels like a surprise.
Seeing it from far off
you can't tell if its coming or going
like a ship on the horizon.
And yet when it's upon you
the time flies on by
like a car going the other way.
Was the moment always there
and we come upon it,
or does the moment come to us?
Are we islands in a river
or are we the water
reaching the shores?
Or are we and it like two trains
on parallel tracks
destined to pass the other by?
Or are we and it one body
mixing and unmixing
like a cosmic bowl of broth?
