You wonder at it all. The timing.
What comes when. And why.
And how the timing sometimes sucks
and sometimes set off fireworks
that light the sky for years.
How it is that you stumbled so many times
into perfection and how it is
you did not see here and there
that the timing was done
and things you thought alive
had long ago died and you wonder
how it is you are supposed to know
one time from another until after it has passed,
a slow learner with a pocket watch
that lives in its own world,
Half history and half fantasy, perfect
in its own way, for the world
you have lived in up till now.
About this poem.
Ever think about the role timing plays in everything? From love to faith to work to opportunity to failure and the times we dance.