Years fly by

Years fly by

I am bewildered by time
Confused by its passing
Apparently slow
Unendingly similar
Yet years fly by
and here I am ageing
whilst apparently
of consequence
The past becomes an empty
egg shaped space
full only of golden light
and silent loving
The present-ever-glowing
The future unthought of
and unplanned for
in the impossibility of now
the endless inability
spilling over
down the decades
Life becomes lived
despite its somehow
lifeless quality
I find it all so very bizarre
Trapped in the quandary
of this illness.

Linda Crowhurst
18th October 2009

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