Oracle

on the nature of time

The heart measures out its beats to death;

Each one counted, taken, poured

Into the ear of eternity

And a thousand whispers in that ear

Yield no more than a tender look

A mystic word, prophecy half-unheard.

From your mouth another voice –

All the time we have spent spins round our hands

Time is here, time passes, time leaves us by;

We are no more than breath, we must die.

Do you love me, then, as I do you,

And if, being breath, that were all we knew

Still we should sit within our fleeting days

Passing the hours every thought obeys;

And we are true, as we must ever be

Bounded by ourselves, fetterless and free.