An Archer, A Dancer

An archer amidst the mirth of birds
His arrow flies through arches of slanted light
Sometimes Time distills
Sometimes it flows by

A dancer bare on a shoal
Her arms raised as if she could exalt the sky
Sometimes Time distills
Sometimes it flows by

You and I are made for this earth
Not for these times
We find comfort in the berth of our pasts
We choose to wonder the lark of furtive futures

I am rudderless and adrift tonight
My pen, in sinews of ink, dries in the maelstrom
Strain your eyes
To span time