Tinkering Tinseled Time

Tall tattered tinkering tinseled time
(as if I could call it mine) –
weaving wondrous webs; weighty, weak, wild,
seeping through the hours. I am beguiled
by this breaking, bashful, brilliant balm
that tugs at my heartstrings, disjoining my calm.

Looming lackadaisical lush luster
deters my tending to be a truster
in those incalculable incandescent inklings
of those moments full of time turned wrinklings.
Shall I shift, satirize, search or shyly savor
those sacred junctures when life has flavor?

Dreams dancing, daring, deepening days,
and yet I often forget to praise
the One who quickens, quietly quirks
and leaves me with all these works
of glittering gleaming giddy ghastly
hypnotic hushed haunts happening vastly.

The world is spinning, while spacious, splendid,
spectral, speechless space has me up-ended
and now I’ve tottered, talking of trivial tepid troubles,
lost in bland backward banal bursts ‘n bubbles,
leaving my selfish stingy primly pale plans in tatters
making a miser’s mirror, unmindful of what matters.

Wisp-wrapped wallow or wry-winged writhing?

Worrying about my needs.  But Chronos is scything

away all my aeons, ages, atoms, auras, armor …
I so easily forget that childlike cheery charmer.
Security unsteadfast, but still surveying suggestive stars,
we still can ask ourselves if we prefer Venus or Mars.

Workplace worries wrecking wrong-wrought wishes;

it’s time we remembered the Holy One who dishes
joys unbought, breathlessly buoyant, busily brimful,
busting self-enclosed brains and turning them whimful.
Moments so prized, present, precise, priestly profusely pressing …

Let’s not allow our brief breakneck bothers to blur His blessing.