R.E. Slater - Bind the Hands that Bind Our Time

Bind the Hands that Bind Our Time

by R.E. Slater

Seize the time... Live now!

Make now always the most precious time.

Now will never come again!

- Jean-Luc Picard,

Picard, S3E6 Dominion

Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc, goes the ancient clock...

"Were we doomed 'ere ever we were born,

by the hands of time o'er mere hands of flesh?

To live and die without meaning or end,

no less animal but no mere men?

If born to suffer, born to lose, what then is life?

Knit in weakened flesh and earthly bone,

birthed an innocence so simple, so stout,

so broken and frail worlds without end?

Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc, goes the ancient clock...

Here lies mystery in riddle, rhyme without sense,

whether if man's fragility driven desperation,

so soon dependent on creation's graces,

so soon revealing his fleshly wonts and races.

The ancient eons ever turbulent and chaotic,

set in strife, in hazard, draught or cold,

yet persisted frail earthly frames,

all onslaughts seeking ruinous aims.

Human clans working together or apart,

sharing dreams of a neverland's start,

daring doom death's empty wastelands,

knowing sun and moon and barren strands.

Tic-Toc, Tic-Toc, goes the ancient clock...

"All good things must come to an end."

Whether bourne stillborn or fulfilled,

mortal struggles to despair's daily lost,

no brute beast but becoming man.

Whether true or not conflicts each soul,

to admit meaning in lost or lost of meaning.

Or, when facing weakness, error, or mistake,

might redeem the time, perhaps one's life?

tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc....

What then is mortal worth to hidden destiny?

Is man but unsolvable puzzle till pulled apart?

Viscerally rent from head to toe, heart and soul,

to "Weep, Weep, Weep," whilst doom pervades?

Was it perhaps blessed, or wretched, desire

that joined survival to life's vanity's fair?

Yielding strengths, wisdom, talent, and flaws,

we each must face ourselves when facing life.

tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc....

For a little while, what is and was, lays hidden,

to earthly eye, raised hand, torn heart and soul,

unseen till world's end when all unseen tells

remembered stories of tragedy and suffering.

tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc....

Shall we then say, or cease to say,

"All good things lie at the hands of a clock?"

Wound by death's hands, doomed from birth,

or rewound by mortal hands fighting doom?

Or, "Might time be unwound as life winds forward?"

When falling back upon one's ancient self,

to fight an ancient battle against all bitter ends,

refusing death in lost rhyme to riddle?

tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc....

"Which is stronger and which the weaker?

Can love rule or doth hate win?"

Perhaps to "Live by Love" might bind death's

too willing hands when living each moment

as becomed and becoming miracle and mystery

to life's unending rhymes and riddles?

Perhaps embracing the thought or belief,

"To live by love in weakness and loss,

or in trouble and toil... All things humble,

or valiant may yet redeem unredeeming time.

tic-toc, tic-toc, tic-toc....

R.E. Slater

January 9, 2024

revised January 10, 2024

@copyright R.E. Slater Publications

all rights reserved

kintsugi

Kintsugi

by Deeee, April 2017

I was broken.

Shattered remains of what I used to be.

Random misaligned pieces, sprawled all over the floor, crushed more by whomever would walk over them.

And then you came.

And you saw.

Each piece you knew was a part of something greater.

"Something beautiful," you said.

You helped me pick up the pieces, ignoring the cuts on your hands.

You kept me safe, so noone else would hurt me.

You found a broken girl, but you saw *Kintsugi.

Kintsugi:

the Japanese Art of Golden Repair

by Mollie Grant, April 2016

I want to know

    what it feels like
        for reconciliation
            to wash over
                my fault lines.

Take my cracks
    and paint them
    with gold.
        Let me glimmer,

                           gleam,

                               and glow
                                          redemption.

Illuminate my mistakes
    and let my skeleton
        frame out a museum
            of triumph.