Within The Structure Of Time - Max Reif

[Lawrence Robinson]

Within The Structure Of Time

The weekend has landed—
what I ached for as
I climbed the week’s hill
through effort of will
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday,
then over the fabled hump, down

to Thursday’s bleed-through
to this Saturday freshness,
the way you smell the sea
miles from first sighting it.
The load-bearing camel
senses a lush oasis.

The weekly pattern
ever the same:
effort and longing,
labor and recreation.

Now I’m here
in this moment at
my weekend café.
Nowhere I have to go,
nothing I have to do.

Moments pass one
by one, to the silent
beat of time, the dance
of forms in space
choreographed by
minds behind those forms.

I open this notebook.
Words drop one
by one onto the page
from I know not where—
from the dark and
the urge to Light.

More than that
I can’t and don’t
need to know

beyond being grateful
for believing in the Journey
and the eventual Journey’s End.

	- Max Reif
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