March 18, 2015

A Ribbon We Call Time

Time made by man from beginning
Never ending like space and numbers
Unforgiving worlds of infinite
Where are we upon this line
We have drawn in the sand
A speak so small only God can see
Yet we prance about as if nothing
Before us or after will be so grand
Shouting our glory thinking
Heaven should bow before us
Tho my words speak from within
I know I too stand alongside man
Being nothing but a speck of dust
Upon this ribbon we call time


Snaggle Tooth said...

Humans are always so self-important
squishing mere ants beneath our feet.
I think we are both impressive
N an ant's work ambition can't be beat.

desk49 said...


Yes we are
and they do
get under foot

Lynn said...

Yes - we are a blip in time, for sure.

desk49 said...


infinite points
upon that line
on which we
chose to tread
to what point
will they lead

Anonymous said...

I have finally found your blog...yah me. I sure have missed your poetry.

desk49 said...

A loon after a old mans heart

put down the knife run desk run


Sara said...

I thought I responded to this poem. The last line is great. I like the "speck of dust upon this ribbon we call time."

desk49 said...

yet how great I am
so all might see
as if none walked
upon that line but me