Ode to a Clepsydra
To the alchemist’s eye, water = emotion, and so it is
that our moments can be marked by the rise and fall of
feeling, a steady stream of anger-eager-joy-hope-faith
devotion to emotion.
Days that pass without touching the interior of
our mortal casings are deadlier
than disasters. Moments that come and
go unremembered, unmarked by impact
on our souls, are the ones we most
regret, when we consciously number our final breaths.
So let’s trade the customary tiny grains of rock, sifting
down
a
narrow
hole
to peak beneath their ingress, for a steady liquid
stream — drain
water,
drip
drops. Let the pool beneath rise and w i d e n.
>Plop<
should be the sound of living life.
And
>>Splash<<,
the sound of life lived well.
kayLorraine 