Will George Poet What has time marked

What has time marked?

Time has marked me as no other can!

Wrinkles and furrows adorn my brow.

Grey hair, thinned, mops my crown.

Weather beaten hands calloused and cracked,

tarnished and mottled are tightly clasped.

Blemishes show my age and not my maturity.

Deep rifts cut patterns to the quick of my soul.

Crevasses, to be traversed very slow,

lead to the vaults and caverns below.

Some are dark and some are aglow,

fired with a sense of feeling and bestow

the response to all manner of toll!

Cosmic currents cannot hinder or aid

my perennial evolution to a higher plain.

The tidal flow paces the magnetic band

pulsing with the reverberation of inner flame.

Sun bursts extend from epicentre to periphery’s end,

absorbed as the energy yet to be claimed.

‘The trumpet sounds,’ and Gabriel casts his eyes

across that span of many man’s lives.

He does not see the frailty of tired bodies.

He sees the sheet that remains unchanged of deeds now written.

Those actions formed and recorded of lesser being,

speak of the worthiness of those who are seen.

Time is of its own making!

Etched in moments, seconds and minutes.

Quantum radiation moves in quarks.

Action speeds by quicker than seen by the eye.

Souls wait unsure of the destination,

caught in a current uncontrolled.

Are the reflections of my soul in shadow cast?

Are the pages of worthiness blank?

To whom or what can this question be asked,

‘What has time marked?’

The blemishes on my outer skin are superficial.

The blemishes of my soul are indented to the end.

Time; never enough, does not wait,

leaves us or carries us, only if we are willing.

Unmarked we may be left in the final analysis.

We can contribute only a little to the final draft

of words best to describe our ultimate worth!

Our hope that they will give an equitable record.