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| source Midweek Motif ~ Time |
From time immemorial humans have endeavored to bind the omnipotent, eternal immeasurable Time.
Science and Arts do that in their unique way. While the Rotation of the Earth from east to west, the Earth's Revolution around the Sun, the phases of the moon, the swing of a pendulum and the beat of a heart act as the alphabets to read the language of Time, colors and lines of artists and words of poets aspire to tease and go beyond Time.
We cannot deny the ambiguous nature of Time. While Time is truly a measurable entity it is both instantaneous and eternal.
Are we all fixed to a time frame?
What sayest thou?
A few quotes and a couple of poems for inspiration:
"Hide nothing, for time, which sees all, exposes all."---Sophocles
"How did it get so less so soon? It's night before it's afternoon. December is here before it's June. My goodness how the time has flewn. How did it get so late so soon?"---Dr. Seuss
"It is looking at things for a long time that ripens you and gives you a deeper meaning."---Vincent Van Gogh
"Now five years is nothing in a man's life except when he is very young and very old"...Wang Lung ---Pearl S. Buck, The Good Earth
To His Coy Mistress
By Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain.
I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
(The rest is here)
Time Xxi
By Khalil Gibran
And an astronomer said, "Master, what of Time?"
And he answered:
You would measure time the measureless and immeasurable
You would adjust your conduct and even direct the course of your spirit according to hours and seasons.
Of time you would make a stream upon whose bank you would sit and watch its flowing.
Yet the timeless in you is aware of life's timelessness,
And knows that yesterday is but today's memory and tomorrow is today's dream.
And that that which sings and contemplates in you is still dwelling within the bounds of that first moment which scattered the stars into space.
Who among you does not feel that his power to love is boundless?
And yet who does not feel that very love, though boundless, encompassed within the centre of his being, and moving not from love thought to love thought, nor from love deeds to other love deeds?
And is not time even as love is, undivided and paceless?
But if you thought you must measure time into seasons, let each season encircle all other seasons,
And let today embrace the past with remembrance and the future with longing.
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(Next week Susan's Midweek Motif will be Fathers)
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