For Barry

My Grandad once told me
“There’s no time to waste”
Which I believed to understand
In a scurry of haste.

Keep busy. Move quick.
The continuum marches on.
Tick – tock – tick.

Produce. Consume. Do. GO.
Hardly a moment to reap what we sow.

It’s only now I see
And sense what he meant
In true Self-adherence
It can’t be misspent.

Rather than gushing and rushing around
If we stop. Hush, and drop our mind
An infinite stream of it can be found.

If time has sands; then I am a desert.
Not depleted, always defeated by clocks hands.
But replete of presence.
Not barren and arid.
But brimming with my quintessence.

A never-ending, always-bending
Nowness for the taking,
Hereness for the making.

Crushed by a weight
Of a past and future unreal
It is time, to realise
And claim what ‘is’ to heal

Laying down the lie,
The frustration, DEVASTATION,
That there’s a limited supply
And this time, it’s a knowing behind our very own eyes.

The truth rests in the following permission:
It's all yours. It’s all mine. It’s overflowing, and it awaits to be given.

“There’s no time to waste.”
My Grandad once said,
His owl-wise gaze trying to transmit
This pearl from his finalbed.

Stress will persist - until we resist.
Time
Barely
Exists.

No.1 26/9/22