Times Fool – A Poem

I am trying to let go of time.

Not everything needs to be done like clockwork.

I know this,

but I am a creature of routine.

Time has been both my safety net and my touchstone.

Repetition brings me comfort.

It brings an assurance that there is something within my life

that I can control,

and comfort is a hard thing to break free of.

I measure everything I do in time,

in how long it takes,

how many seconds and minutes have passed. 

Whatever task I take on during the day

is usually done at the same time:

a glass of water when I wake at 5:30,

followed by a shower that is exactly twenty to thirty minutes long,

depending on whether or not I need to shave.

Everything is routine,

nothing changes even as I try to break free,

finding both solace and restraint as

I attempt to let go of the hold that time has,

It’s so tempting to let time hold me in its embrace,

for it never leads me wrong if I honour it.

Time does not know it,

but I have started to make dinner later each day,

starting with a few seconds past six,

then a few minutes and then a quarter of an hour.

Recently,

dinner was ready a full half hour beyond six.

No one died,

and the earth did not fall away from me.

Standing in the kitchen after dinner,

I was the very soul of a rebel,

each minute that I’ve taken back like jewel

that has been found within myself.

However,

after glancing at a clock and seeing the late hour,

I don’t want to push it too far,

lest time begins to fall away

completely.