These are the facts, nothing here but the facts. I was on the road to Damascus via a street in the West Village in New York City, when, in an instant, barometric pressure had dropped 100 MB. Darkness enveloped an eleven-o’clock-morning sun. It may have been a trick of the mind, or some kind of serious panic disorder. Although I could no longer see, I pictured myself a child on a visit to my great grandmother's house in La Salle, Illinois. In my head I felt as though a tornado was approaching...
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Children watch me run through the streets, And wonder, what is it all about, my hurrying.
My eyes push forward, Cause me to squint. Then all at once I break into a smile.
And night after night in steady flow Ideas collect, press fierce, Hard against my brow.
The pressure makes for heat; There is fire in the brain.
I hear words march with noise Akin to soldiers' boots slapping on pavement.
I see your gaze upon me. The beauty of your large brown eyes Engulfs my neural circuitry.
Oh I smell wheat grass! It's being blended with fresh strawberries and oranges.
I love the juices' heady odor, When ever I breathe it in -- I am reminded of you.
We looked out the window. We sat upon stools at a Formica bar, A long, plate-glass window provided unobstructed view, And we people watched the intersection, Corners at avenue and street, the sidewalk before us, They became our theater, and we agreed; It was pleasant evening's entertainment.
Pressed, cardboard cartons contained our suppers. We ate our meals with plastic forks and knives; The napkins were brown, recycled paper.
Believe me, no irony intended. Honest!
Every memory, every instant My being with you, every occasion was lovely! I shall die a happy man.
Die a happy man? Here's my defense. However I may wonder, Whether ultimately I write fact or fiction.
Do I possess truth or fall to illusion?
I know that those two forces bind me, As is the case with Siamese Twins, Who are born to share common cerebrum.
In a language plain, common to us all, Here I stand and bear witness, Though that I am mere flesh and born to perish, Spirit informs me and grants me friends, Friends who are awaiting worship, And friends of friends who celebrate the light, A priesthood of all believers who patiently gather Filling the rows of benches in the meeting hall. And one by one this church affirms a new covenant -- God is love and death has no power, The kingdom lives within us, our souls eternal.
Click the "Captions Icon" to "ON" at the bottom of the video, if not already playing.18 February 2014, My YouTube Channel, Stanley Pacion, counts 223,000 Hits, Single Page Visits SUBSCRIBE, Please. Full Text WORDS HERE (Show More) http://stanleypacion.blogspot.in/2014/02/time-flies-2159.html ~~ Or ~ http://www.stanleypacion.com ~~ https://www.facebook.com/stanleypacion ~~ India EveryDay: http://83.170.91.156/video/u/StanleyPacion.htm?ss=
TIME FLIES; 21:59
Darling, Tempus fugit, right?
That's how the Latin goes.
Virgil, wasn't it?
But who cares anyways,
I must say, hey Virgil, this is stupid stuff,
Because for me at home alone
The clock has stopped.
Then, when I take another glance,
I realize from the timepiece's face
That I had been mistaken, my impression wrong.
The clock's hands have apparently moved.
Yet far from time fleeting,
The hours drag, even the second hand --
Its motion becomes imperceptibly slow,
When you are gone and
Day and night must be faced alone.
And you write to me and say that before long
You will return home. You declare that
Less than three weeks remain,
Soon, you add, your absence today turns to memory,
And confidently profess, "time really does fly!"
But for me, no matter how you try to comfort,
Your words are empty; they do nothing to hasten the hours!
When I hear the clock, note the spaces
Between its regular tick-to-tock, those intervals,
They appear as if they were eternity, and your absence
-- Your face no longer upon your pillow,
Your body missing from your side of the bed --
You, you seem now to have been gone forever.
2.
I know. I know. You suppose that I exaggerate!
Still I am not acclimated to them,
These phenomena of your leaving,
Your terrible disappearances for the sake of business,
These separations, how may I ever become used to them!
You were reared differently from me.
When you were still a girl,
Your father was a frequent traveler;
From childhood on you grew accustomed
To experience longing, and you learned to practice
A ruse which had told your inner self that
He will be home before you know it.
I can hear you and your mother rehearsing the phrase,
When dad was gone and you two sat at home alone,
"Oh the days go by so fast!"
The electronic image of time before me
(to the bottom-right on the computer screen)
Its numbers read 21:59.
It sits. It waits.
Woman! Can't you see what you have done to me?
What it means to be without you?
Now before me looms the terror,
The nightmare forecast, have you heard
What new science tells us
About the desolation to which all things row?
3.
The universe endlessly expanding,
With its boundary beacons actually accelerating,
Points of light at outermost fabric of space/time,
Increasing speed, faster and faster, and distancing apart,
Separately hastening from one star-light point to another,
All of them at once unimaginably gaining velocity
Now farther and farther, becoming
Less and less visible one to the other,
Each spot, with its incredible luminosity,
All the great-big burns of atomic power
Endlessly hurling at quicking pace, hurrying and hurrying,
Ever picking up speed at the edge of empty space,
Scurrying to extend, stretching the cosmos,
Until ultimately everything that exists anywhere
Has no one object in sight of any other.
Might I ever hope to expect the bright of your eyes
To bridge the black night,
Where time slips into nothingness,
And the law of gravity no longer applies,
Every principle of attraction confounded.
Me having seen your face in every flower,
That once at summer's dusk we still felt warmth,
And at dawn when we awoke we felt it again.
My longing here, my each and every thought of you
Mean nothing when all spheres turn to final ice,
And all hope of perennial bloom becomes forlorn,
There is no sunshine when you're gone.
Time at a halt, no more even the instant, and in the abyss
No star glimmers, no light shines out of the darkness,
I wish you were in my arms tonight.
The electronic numbers on my computer clock read 21:59.