Time's Departure Poem by ENOCH JOHN

Accordingly, after an inscription in the Apocalypse,
and fleet-footed time has run her marathon,
brandishing her scarce moments as a banner
to chronicle her final chapters as a scribe.Time, the vassal
opens the skeletal closet of history,
and with undue speed, her spiral she winds down,
between her hasty flight and the last ephemeral dance,
the thin clear air alight with uncertainty,
like the yellow electric light, flickering onto me,
flushing my cheeks with departure, and
like a silent sentinel watching over the`city,
from us she turns her imperial stare,
away from shifting kingdoms of sand,
and the stressed air of a brown earth,
the powerful wings of Pegasus carting her off,
as the world mourns, a broken cistern,
unable to contain her anymore.

Outside unchartered spheres of human endeavour,
away from the pastoral of poets,
the splendour of white harbours,
the anguish of mothers,
the wail of sirens,
the Egyptian labour of ants,
the caress of lovers,
the bleating of sheep in green pastures
the high laurels of learning,
and the decay of morals,
we experience the flight of angels,
the reverence of winged seraphims
the holy hush at Heaven's throne.