Does one always endeavor
to crystallize the second?
To clutch the clock's rapid hands
and fixate upon the moment?
And marvel at its gleaming craft,
the pattern of its puzzle,
why cannot one dismiss time's grasp
and against the stillness nuzzle?
If one could savor eternity
in one second of one day,
if one could wrest the fertility
of life with time tossed so away,
could not the bewitching glory
of the sullen silence of pure existence
clean of the ticking folly
of seconds consistent in persistence
uncloak the anguish of life,
dismiss its degradation,
restore the vivaciousness of youth,
revive the affirmation
of consecration?