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THE PRESS
Time is a press whose mechanism
takes the fruit of infinite possibility
and squeezes it through a tiny hole called
“the present”
to produce the juice of life
which should be sipped slowly and savored
not because the flavor is so great
but because the volume is so small.
(Mike Cohen – Dec 2007)
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PRESENT
When will the present be with us?
It’s coming… coming… gone.
No time to think or to discuss,
the future hurries on…
No sooner is it now, but then
it’s passed, and will not pass again.
The present isn’t meant to last
for when the future meets the past
no echoes sound, no shadow’s cast;
just come and gone
and we look on
aghast,
to think that all things go so fast.
(Mike Cohen – c.1992)
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At the speed of light it might be poosible to keep pace with time. It certainly would allow quick passage through space. Light takes only take eight minutes to travel 90 million miles, the distance between the sun and the earth.
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EIGHT-MINUTE ODYSSEY
The sun’s just eight minutes away
if you travel light.
Just hop aboard the nearest ray
and enjoy your flight.
You can catch the 1:02
and be there by 1:10,
turn round and by 1:18 you
can be back here again.
Or you may decide to stay
where it’s never night.
On the sun it’s always day,
and the skies are never gray.
If you’re coming, don’t delay.
Just hop aboard the nearest ray.
It’s only eight minutes away
if you travel light.
(Mike Cohen - c.1992)
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METRONOME – A DIFFERENT TIMEPIECE
You live and you die by the hour
if you reckon your life by the clock,
but if you’re attuned to the power
of Beethoven or Bach,
perhaps you would feel more at home
living by the metronome.
The metronome doesn’t strike, doesn’t chime –
just goes to and fro, and repeats.
By its count you’ll never run out of time –
only out of beats.
(Mike Cohen - c.1992)
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No matter how it is measured, time seems to pass before we know it, and before we know it we find ourselves looking back in bewilderment.
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COUNTER-CLOCKWISE
Where does memory begin?
It starts from any now to spin… counter-clockwise.
And spin it will, around and round
until your lifetime is rewound… counter-clockwise.
Time marches us ahead,
up the hill of hope and fear.
We long for foresight but, instead,
we are bound to face the rear.
It is every mortal’s curse
that we can’t foretell our fate.
All we see is in reverse,
all we understand too late.
Back we look, and see regret
all the way to the beginning.
We’d do better to forget,
but memory’s spinning, always spinning -
counter-clockwise.
(Mike Cohen – c.1995)
