Posted in Odd poetry

Chasing fractals

Once I made an image, and called it time
Don’t remember why

We count our days and hours, have numbers as symbols,
use them for time passing by,
trying to make the world understandable,
catchable, maybe even – meaningful?

We cut our lives in smaller pieces,
days, hours, minutes, seconds…
fragments of what actually is not?

simple puzzle ten pieces
so what do we do, when we rock around the clock?
create universes?
fear big bang?
blow our minds in the wind?

Sometimes feeling outdated,
bored until the limit of time,
don’t want this
don’t want that

chasing fractals in the sun
ending up on the cold side of the moon
slicked to the bosom

ignoring time
waiting
being
just keeping on
being