The Times Bear Down

The times bear down

Against a closed wall, the tides come rushing.
We are oblivious, tiny, unaware of the scheme,
The cannon fodder against the wall,
The barrier that shapes the world.
The times bear down cruelly,
And we all rush forward, helpless in its grasp.

The times bear down,
Callous in their unyielding nature.
Whirls, whorls, melds, slams
The loud noise of deconstruction.
As lives are ground, groaning into a growing glory,
Glory built on a foundation of gory agony,
A glory built as a hollow, thin patina, a façade.
Yes, the times bear down,
Unforgettingly wicked, remarkably precise,
And looking for who will turn and cross.

For the times bear down
They rush toward a wall.
The pressure of this closed diaphragm 
Is the driving force of fate's Valsalva.
As time aches to push us all out,
Eager to sneeze our days and years past early hours.
We speed onward into the wall of reality
Some earlier, some later.
And like a very good temporal contre coupé,
We forget everything and keep looking forward.
For the times bear down.
No room to contemplate escape or plan a prison break.
This narrow strip of reality and possibility,
Ephemeral, intangible, the escaping now
Is our lot and capital.

And the times bear down, 
The enemy shifts.
We forget time, focus on those close to our strip,
And learn to hate, to bear down on them,
To disgust, repulse, and send running.
We forget life and focus on the seconds.
Tomorrow is ever uncertain.
Yesterday is often more regretful.
Yet, the times
Oh yes, the times don't care.
They heave and groan on.
We are forced into the refining walls
And sent back to race again.
For the times bear down.
The relay of life is relentless
And the energy of today is limited,
Only for those who never felt the motivation of death
To find a way forward.

Salami Wisdom