To Catch the Fleeting Wind

Time does not exist;

clocks exist.

Our galactic universe,

of incomprehensible enormity

with distances measured in light years;

where our cosmic home, planet earth,

is a relative speck of dust;

leads me to ponder…

Might our brief human existence in comparison,

constitute merely a fraction of a nano second

in what we understand as time?

In what manner do we reap

significance,

a sense of purpose;

in our terrestrial snapshot of actuality?

How do we;

reconcile a turbulent life,

negotiate the dialectics

of an existentialist vacuum,

when the surge of suffering

overwhelms our capacity to sustain;

throttling our instinct to survive

and manifest

…a life without regret.

When does the power of omniscient love,

and compassionate wisdom

rise to the occasion,

tipping the scales and

delivering us to

gentle equanimity?

Where is that junction

where unequivocally

enough is enough,

and lingering intellectualizations

vaporize into benevolent acquiescence?

With relativity reduced to a word,

the elusive quest for:

unfolding,

clarity of consequence,

whys and wherefores,

is like trying

to catch the fleeting wind.

Copyright © Henri Ferguson 2017