If God Walked Among Us

If God Walked Among Us

I idle in the solitude of time. Its passage is welcome and it is not welcome.
Minutes and years are apples and pears, only never fully ripe, just a little hard.
Oarsmen have turned to pilots, pilots to astronauts,
Girls have turned to women, who have turned to girls again.

I simply raise my hand and let it be so. You could raise your hand, but it would not be so.
Although sometimes I wish that it could be.
What is there to see when you've seen everything?
Where can I go when each cave and crevice is as familiar to me as my own hands and feet?
Yet not as precious to me as my own hands and feet?

I idle in the solitude of time, restless with fate and hopes of the End.