Present Time
This is a poem I wrote about time, and how it can change. It’s called Present Time.
Present Time
Tic … toc … tic … toc …
Still sounds the unstoppable clock.
And … time continues …
As it has since the beginning of creation …
As it will til the destruction of the universe …
Time continues …
The second ago doesn’t feel quite so different from the second of now …
Yet, it is irretrievable, and becomes no more,
Held deep in the mind of the person who experienced it.
The minute ago doesn’t feel quite so different from the minute of now …
Yet, it too is irretrievable, and becomes no more,
Held deep in the mind of the person who experienced it.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days …
— Months, Years and Decades …
Birth, Youth, Prime, Decline …
— And Death, Inevitable.
Centuries, Periods and Ages
— the Roman, Neoclassical, the Dark Ages …
All, were created with the tics, and the tocs …
— the tics and the tocs of the unstoppable, slow-paced clock.
And …
Time continues …
Uncaringly, unhurriedly, unchangablely
Time continues.
My friend, as you read this next line,
How exist your soul in this present time?Are you yet to be born?
Have you already died?
Are you well and happy?
Have you recently cried?
And after these very same lines, you’ve returned again,
How is present time for you, now, my friend?Are you up, or down?
If life good, or bad?
What exactly describes the present time
You now have?
My only wish and hope,
Is that it has been good for you in the both.
But my perfect wish and dream,
Is that we may dwell as safe today
As in those memories we held in yesterday
— those memories we hold deep in our mind,
— those memories, that for us, used to be our present time.
But time has changed for me my friend,
And I’ve found myself back in the bad again.
And as the sands pour through the hour glass,
All good times are returned to the past.
Still, if you can help me in the bad of mine
I’ll promise to help you through all of time.
If you can help me, through just this one — dear friend,
I’ll be there to help you til the very end.
So the cry is made, the message is clear.
Listen close now …
In this, the answer you should be able to hear:
Tic … Toc … Tic … Toc …
— still continues the unstoppable clock …- Richard I. Walters, ~ 1989
When I entered the Navy, in early Oct, 1987, I began a grueling academic program — the Navy’s Nuclear Power Program in Orlando, Fl. (For those familiar with the program — I was in class 8808. ) Nuclear Power classes in the Navy were intense — eight ridged hours of non-stop material coming straight at you, fast paced, building principle on principle related to reactor theory. We had classes in chemistry, heat transfer and fluid flow, atomic level component electronics, etc …
Each day, after class, I had just enough time to eat, relax for an hour, and re-enter that classified building, in uniform, for my mandatory five-hours-a-day study of that day’s material. We would need to master that day’s lessons in order to absorb next day’s classes. Like I said, this was an intense academic program — basically four years of college level reactor theory classes condensed in six months.
Needless to say, I was brain-dead long before my daily five hours had ended. I could go on and on about how others were coping with this lifestyle. I saw many friends intentionally failing out of the program. Within my own class of thirty something recruits, one student attempted suicide. We stopped him. He was immediately ousted from the program. Weekly we received news of tragic deaths on Honda Hurricane motorcycles; I honestly believe some of these could have been successful suicide attempts. (Okay … I’m flashing back right now…)
** SNAP **
Anyway, I spent many of those required hours just thinking. Sometimes I wrote poetry — I was just playing with words. This is one of those poems during that stage of my life — it has a lot of sentimental value to me. I hope you enjoy it. (Please do not ask me what the ending is about — I really have no idea — again, I was just playing with words. Perhaps it was about just being lonely.)
NOTE: I STRICTLY MAINTAIN ALL COPYRIGHT PRIVILEGES TO THIS POEM.