Sensing Time

[poetry for soul]

Philip Trager © Toma Otake, Eiko Oktake

Sensing Time

How to measure what is not caught

time,

energy in motion, expression

Ruthless and irresistible

Sculptor

In the hair, in the mind and body

in the soul

repousse and ethereal together

empirical, relative,

inevitable.

Oils in a blank canvas

filled my hands

crawling on him

as fast,

as slowly as I want.

A project that worked once,

years of hard effort

years of density, weighed,

each day, I carried time, every day

and there came a time that done

and then all these years, 

an altered sensation,
 their weight, size

even their smell.

And if it hurt

now I do not know,

are you in pain?

He trickled slowly

handily carved

all my colors

And now I ask him,

does it hurt

I don't see pain, I don't feel pain

only strength.

He took power

acquired status.

and I ask him again,

does it hurt

I don't see pain, I don't feel pain

I know better,
 he whispers in me

Peel of parched trees

flee on me

the time,

the Past.

Time,

elusive, fugitive and lover

faithful dog
King of thrones

the mind loses him

but the body locks him

deep,

in each cell,

and recalls.

The touch of a good man

the embrace that close you,

with fervor,

inside her

dissolve imperceptibly,

the time passed without caress

hazy recollection of a dream,

he body breathes love,

remembers,

inhale time

having of old impressed.

Time lives in the memory of sense.