02-12-2015, 08:04 PM
(02-10-2015, 06:33 AM)Erthona Wrote:
Time and Ode to Entropy (edit 0.002 Leah S, updated but still in progress)
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully enteredHere is where. I ask because I do not know. You do not say
I am walking out the door, I think american is "walking out the door" but english is "walking out of the door".Me? I just don't know.Just saying (whatever that means)
in the midst of walking forward No. "midst" is most certainly wrong. You cannot be in the "midst of walking". Rephrase.
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,"...a candle wick, not fully lit, I find that I'm snuffed out." Surely. Try snuffing out a flaring match. Caution! Contains oxidising agent.
I find that I'm snuffed out.
It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze. Surely not.
Halcyon Haze
www.halcyonhaze.co.uk/
Halcyon Haze - a range of premium e-liquid flavours from the UK using premium e-liquid ingredients, great juice for your electronic cigarette - order online. The rest I like.
At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field. Great stuff, this mythological meandering. Cronus, Chronus, Titan Cronus, bull, man, lion, three heads, serpent-like....and with heels, to boot....but that last line. Priceless in all its certainty
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.
There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards. Lost me here. Hang on. Let me think. Nope. Lost me here. I keep thinking of Parking Meters.Sorry....I am being frivolous.
There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found. There are semantic sins in this stanza but I cannot for the life of me unfathom the fathomless or pick the unpickable lock. So I will leave it alone
One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground Oh please...not you, too dale. It? It? You would not let me get away with "it".
A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy? Almost as all encompassing as mythology but none the worse for it. The question mark works for me...but would not for you.
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.
Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that permeates
throughout the universe. I look for cohesion but find none in this stanza...it is unglued (huh?)
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake. If this is Entropy for the Layman it is un-understandable. You are now pushing the boundaries to where no man has gone before...er...or since
The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life. Why the succubus? Why not the incubus? In fact, why either. I struggle here
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life. Hmmm. If I said this was a contrivance would you hold it against me?
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s
to
wind
...down.
Well, dale, I guess I failed on this one. It is brave crit who admits to understanding the un-ness of it...and I am un-brave. So un-less there is more to this than I am capable of un-derstanding I am un-derwhelmed. Un-dying respect.
tectak
______________________________________
(edit .001 - Leanne, Billy)
I regret that I have but one life,
not to give… but to live!
Here I find that before I have fully entered
I am walking out the door,
in the midst of walking forward
I find I’ve turned about;
like a match, before it's fully lit,
I find that I'm snuffed out.
It is true I’ll admit,
I have been at times
a spendthrift of minutes,
a wastrel of hours,
a squanderer of days,
as I idled in a diffidently
hesitating, halcyon haze.
At times too,
I have been a hoarder of time,
a miser of the fleeting moment,
a collector of the clicks of Chronos’
heels as he strides across the
titanic gulf, over the starry field.
Still, time is not a set of baseball cards.
There is no coin with which
time can be bought,
to then be categorized,
and put neatly in its place,
in a book of like minded cards.
There are none like minded,
time does not mind, but instead
expects to be minded.
Time is often sought,
but rarely found.
One might just as easily
walk down a sidewalk
and find it lying on the ground
A pack of knaves, a house of cards,
a ring around the rosy?
It matters not for in the end
we all fall down humpty dumpty:
broken, fragmented,
a shell of our former self,
never to rise again.
Time cares not, it makes no amends,
it is the unglue that throughout
the universe permeates.
Time wishes not to create:
but only to unmake.
The un-maker procreator
of timeless destruction;
the succubus of life.
Sucking the life out of energy,
and the energy out of life.
It is true, wise men have found,
that even when sated,
time con-tin-u-e-s
to
wind
...down.
–Erthona
original
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