As we get older, we begin to be more aware of time and its passage. Eventually, it becomes like a roll of toilet paper – the closer we get to the end, the faster it goes. This Poem if the Week touches on this theme.
| Past Participle Time is a substance of varying density Its thickly ethereal gauzy immensity Wrought by subjective subconscious propensity Time is a lobe of the brain And the past stays underfoot forever Quicksand potential for every endeavor Stepstool or beartrap or sidewalk or tether The past is a fickle terrain But interpretable just the same |
Copyright © 2010 by Dave Grossman
Medico Musings 
Not to be morbid or a downer… While I have understood the fleeting nature of time in watching my children get older, I believe it became more poignant after my oldest brother passed away. The passing of a sibling, someone with whom you grew up with, taught you to ride a bicycle and swim, etc. seems to make you more aware of your own mortality. At least it did for me.
I love the wordplay of this poem.
Jorge, you found exactly the right words to describe the ever faster passage of time.
I would like to write you a quote from Maxim Gorki that I read some time ago.
“Time is passing, their hasty, small steps are getting faster and faster. Like golden dust in the red ray of the sun, people flicker in time and disappear again.”
Maxim Gorky (1868 – 1936)
“Time is alone of the brain
And the past stays underfoot forever”
Love this poem.
Thank you for all your positive comments. It’s the fuel all writers live on 🙂