was something Einstein dreamed of at 16
and it stayed in his mind when
he postulated that riding a light beam
away from a clock, time would appear
to be standing still. Farewell, manmade time!
There are 1440 minutes in a day.
The nurse tells me my heart beats
80 times per minute – 115,200 a day.
So many moments, exacting products of distance
multiplied by the charge of absent love.
At fourteen, I thought less about the future
and, unaware of Buddhism, lived in the moment.
Even a day was usually unplanned, spontaneous,
open to what the universe had planned for me.
If life is like a sonnet, the turn occurred when
the future became my focus and the present
rushed by out of control, and the past
became nostalgia, a read book fondly remembered.
At fourteen, I believed, without proof, in eternity.
The days unfolded unbidden and I was content
in thinking at some point I would be able to see
That fourteen-year-old’s future is my present,
slipping away from what I wanted it to be,
and even partially my past, now already spent.