"We, who move through this world, have varied gifts," said the angelic figure who saw the world without time.
She could hold infinite temporal cross-sections in her mind at once. Though she usually focused on one time at a time as you and i might focus our vision on a bird sitting on a lamp post - knowing that one can shift one's visual attention at will.
Her mind snaps from mundane moments to the nearest frenetic second - be it tragic or festive. Just as your eye would snap from the bird on the lamp post to a furry canine shape, trotting into one's periphery; her mind snapped to the "good part" of the story.
While you may think yourself either alive or dead, to her you are a Schrödinger's cat of both alive and dead, but her mind always wants to snap to the second of transformation.
This entry was posted in poem, Poetry, Prose Poem and tagged poem, poetry, Prose Poem, time by B Gourley. Bookmark the permalink.
