A day is but a blazing second
By which a life is truly reckoned
As good or bad or in-between.
Its like will not again be seen.
A day is but a passing dream
Projected on my retinal screen;
Arriving there, it’s upside down,
My brain then has to turn it round.
A day is but a thought in time,
Propelled by sun’s diurnal mime.
Upside down and round and round,
In timeless music, days resound.
A day is but equivocation,
A scene of human desolation.
Blinding fast it flashes by,
If we’ve time, we’ll question why.
A day is but a blazing second
By which a life is truly beckoned
Towards that great eternity
When free, at last, we’ll finally be.
Stephen Tomkins
28 July 2014
Pondering Poet Pilot 