A flower, blooming,
Captured on camera.
Beauty of bud to full-fledged flower,
Too slow for us,
Time lapse.
Growing, it begins to cower,
Under our forceful gaze,
Faster, we will it, impatience galore,
What once were gentle sways
Responding to the breeze,
Are noble, proud, powerful no more.
Manifesting instead,
As tremors of petals,
Shuddering at high speed,
Afraid, almost, at every windy touch.
Teeth, chattering.
A little, too much.
Clouds flying by so quick,
Glimpses of birds become distant dreams,
Land and sky rushing past,
Air forgotten, only wind between.
And what of us,
In this rapidly moving world,
Picked up and placed,
On the other side of the camera?
What would one see?
Not the flashes of neon,
Waves of people,
At Times Squares and Angkor Wats.
What of day-to-day times,
Regular routines, habitual occurrences,
Shopping trips, movie nights,
The things that add up to ordinary life.
Heavenly blooms to panicked beings,
With one fast forward.
So what of us,
How will we fall, rise, bend,
Picked up and placed,
At the mercy of time?
