Space and Time

World-weary I am,

treading along a path

winding, diverging,

with litter of the past.

Then comes an old man,

a face lined and spotted,

wise and weathered,

a good old man.

“Do I make my destiny,

or shall destiny make me?”

The old man coughs,

I wait for his answer.

“Destiny's in your hands,”

the old man tells me.

I've read that before,

but I want to know more.

“Space and time,

how much is mine?”

His lines soften,

jowls loosen.

His mouth opens,

a soundless laughter,

I see him, I watch him,

his soundless laughter.

“Scientists, astronomers,

geniuses, soothsayers,

astrologers, predictors

have tried to find answers.

“Their complex equations,

satellites and rockets,

launching and exploring,

the many universes.

“But young friend, I tell you,

Your space is where

you find your feet;

your time, the moment you do.”

- Eisha