Wanton

Within this frame I feel a space of time

a noiseless momentum not yet wasted, but held

trapped in a bubble chronological resin,

even now hardened, irretrievable only to be

viewed solemnly from a respectable distance

This can never happen again, for again this

sporting chance may offer itself as a

relic of fallen empires of old

Yet this is mine, mine to keep and to

hold this indivisible slice of mine

To others this moment may be synthesised

but not bonded

Are these not wanton thoughts of mine?

Unverifiable and insignificant?

Yet it is this that is more than we

can ever experience,

a sampled portion within an endless numbers of courses

1986