You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘time travel’ tag.

There are moments that happen to us all in our lives
when, within a heart-beat,
we feel like we have crossed the ultimate finish-line,
as all the events of our life- past and future-
appear to flash before ours eyes.
These rare moments of insight can knock you off your feet,
unsettle you for days, but after deep contemplation
they can reveal the continuum of your life, your place in everything-
why you are so important.
I was unprepared and moved to tears when my moment came,
I don’t remember everything that I saw about myself,
in what must have been only a few seconds;
but there is one thing, call it a gift of my future-self,
that still remains.

They say that time-travel is impossible,
but, then again, they used to say that same
about men on the moon.
I believe that if you look at a problem from a different direction
all the answers to your questions will begin to sing in-tune.
I see things in life that I only wish others could see with me;
I see the spark of hope in those people who say that they are giving up,
who only need to take the time to hear the reason why things need to happen-
because, when you are looking at things through a veil,
the mist that you see can be as thick as syrup.

When I look back, and when I look forward,
since my moment of connection with all space and time,
I don’t see a beginning, or an end-
I see a forever existence that is, and will always be, beyond understanding,
but I know in myself that I and we are connected to everything else
like the nervous system of a universal spine.
I don’t have proof of my belief,
but then again you can’t prove that you love someone-
you can only say and show that you do as best that you can.
Like most people who believe in something, I have faith-
for the same reason that you don’t need to prove that the world exists,
even though it cannot be seen by the eyes of a blind person.

I know what it feels like to lose something,
but I also know that if you believe in things, in people, and in yourself,
you cannot foresee how greater the world will become;
you will see, feel, and understand,
that the world doesn’t end when you reach the sea and the sand-
it continues to the stars, as part of the universes, and life’s,
infinite continuum.

This is a message for me-
past me, present me,
past you, present you-
to you, to me, to myself, for myself-
a little experiment in self-portrait poetry.

I have tried this before, but it didn’t really work;
however you know how forgetful I am, we are,
when it comes down to remembering what I have, we have,
written and where-
but I like to think of that part of me, of us,
as number 47 on a list of a thousand of my, of our,
quintessential and character-defining quirks.

It has always been a fantasy of mine
to meet a future version of myself, to meet you-
I am not entirely certain why
I have always been fascinated by stories of time-travel,
but I never thought for a second to actually give it a try-
poetically-speaking, of course-
but, then again, I suppose that is what I have been doing for years:
talking to myself, meeting myself, through my poetry,
through my feelings, through my memories-
learning about myself from the source.

I wonder who I fell in love with, who broke my heart,
I wonder if I ever met my muse;
I wonder if I, you, ever got used to getting old;
I wonder if the world is still learning to live with itself,
and whether there is something truly amazing, hopeful,
and life-changing to be reported on the news.
I wonder if I am still a poet, I wonder if I am still in love with writing-
I hope I am, I hope you are, because writing,
especially the poetry that we have written, means the world to us, to me:
every poem is like a new adventure into an imaginary space,
that always inspires us even more, and every meaning of every word
is thought-provoking and exciting.

If, and when, I, you, ever read this again,
think back to now, to this exact moment,
that you are, that I am, writing this,
and think of yourself, think of me-
because I am wondering about you, what you did, what I will do;
and, from time to time, I will read back what I have written
in this poem to you,
who, of course, will one day become the future Me.

When I was a boy, and all throughout my teenage years,
I was an artist, an athlete, an adventurer,
who knew nothing about the world
other than to never be held back by my fears.
I used to run, cycle, explore, for hours at a time
through my homes countryside open-air-
racing down lanes and over fields,
as the winds of my childhood blew through my curly blond hair.

I remember a summer when my friends and I decided to build a time machine-
I told my friends that it would be easy:
“Doc Brown made one out of a car”,
and I described how easy that had been-
so we outfitted a go-cart with a modified sweet-box, some wires,
a watch, and a calculator- all to my exacting specifications;
and then my friends and I all took turns on our “time machine”,
each time travelling to a myriad of historic and futuristic destinations.

As an adult I have had this recurring thought and daydream for many years
of going back to my “blond hair days”,
sitting down on a bench with my younger self,
and simply talking to myself, and telling myself a story:
a tale of tears and sadness, but also one of energy, inspiration,
love, imagination, and cherished glory.
I would tell myself how one day the world is going to change,
but that everything is going to be alright;
and that magic is real, but it doesn’t always present itself
in colours of black and white.
I would tell myself to remember these times in my life,
because these are the days that I will return to often,
and which strengthen my worlds bonds.
What a time I had, what days they were,
when I was blond!

Photobucket

Archives

Twitter Updates

Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.

Poetographic

%d bloggers like this: