A Book of Lines and Years

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I give to you a book
of days, you give to
me a line of minutes.
I give to you a story
of weeks, you give
to me a poem of years.
Seconds pass, then months,
with neither of us noticing
their passage until we look
into the mirror which
reveals to each a slight
surprise. It seems unpleasant
at first but as with wine,
it’s through our becoming
from boy to man and
girl to woman that we
learn to love it. If we
didn’t age we would
merely stay the same,
which has its benefits,
but with lack of change
comes all the horrible
baggage of boredom and
the awful dullness of ignorance.
This isn’t to say that every
line suggests much less
indicates character or even
wisdom, just that every
passage of time, whether
slow or swift, completes
the shape that makes us
into men and women
of vision, with eye and
ear, or touch and taste,
and sometimes even scent,
to recognize each clear and
brief moment, and all those
fleeting states of grace.

-Jose Padua

Photograph by Jose Padua

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