A "paper" date—
somehow louder
than the day I truly arrived.

Real or made-up,
all are arbitrary arrangements:
Earth turning on its heel,
Moon changing its face.

From Egypt, twelve became twenty-four.
From Babylon, sixty shaped our pulses.
Seven wandering lights
etched the week into the sky.

Newton swore to a universal clock,
steady, sovereign—
until Relativity bent its hands,
forcing time to flow
like water through funnels of speed and gravity.

At heart, the equations run forward or back,
yet the Big Bang loosed an arrow
we cannot unshoot.

Deeper still,
the quantum shadow blurs the dial.

Perhaps time is a mirage—
yet it grazes us,
carves us,
carries us away.

Contemplating past and future,
I aspire to let all go,
and return
to the timeless present.