poetic interlude #1 - cultivating my time

Sometimes, the world tilts on its axis, and I cannot find the gravity to stand. So I lie in bed, head tucked into my abdomen, eyes closed, feeling the time slip away. 

It is almost like when someone bites into an apple and accidentally reaches the core, the hard part where the teeth can’t quite chew. And the seeds, those small pieces of the future, break away from where they nestled.

Like a seed, time always finds a way to be reborn. 

Between the arms of a mother or in the height of conversation, time loses its flowers. But fruit ripens in the silence, in the reflections of what was. That is when the perennial harvest litters the ground.

My mind is conspiring with time. My thoughts consume every minute. My dreams fill my mouth without reaching my stomach. I’m never full.

So what happens when there is no more time to feed on?

What happens when time begins consuming me?

I must learn not to bite off more than I can chew.