Time as Animal
The animal called time will not be bound.
Evasively, she runs on, then around,
And marks the path with traces of her scent-
Here, stampeding -
There, with stealth,
Ever leaving prints -
So that while tracked by man, she slips away,
Running relay with the night and day.
Time is both the hunter and hunted.
Still, her awesome head will never dress
Or be found proudly mounted
On somebody's showcase walls -
Nor ever will her skins warm up
Some great collector's halls -
For she's no trophy one may vie for,
Wanting to impress;
And never will a hunter's shot
Cause running time to freeze;
But like a mother kangaroo,
She'll tuck maternally
Inside her pouch the rifle blast,
And hurry on invincibly
With what she seized: a memory - all memories -
Dodging, leaving rolling clouds of dust.
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