The Edge of Time

[Stephen Whiteside]

The Edge of Time

Pronto whistled his golden horse, and stood at the edge of Time.
He mounted his steed in his hour of need, and started the wearisome climb
Back to the land of the future and past, to the hillocks of now and of then,
Back to a landscape of oceans and land, of birds, and of beasts, and of men.

You don’t need wings on a golden horse when the future and past are one.
You don’t need clocks, and you don’t need to mark the rise and the fall of the sun.
You just need threads and a bowl full of tucker, a parcel of hay for the horse;
A circumscribed task and a colourful mask, and to plot a lugubrious course.

Pronto’s an odd sort of name for a bod who can never be early or late;
For a fella whose mother or lover or daughter waits patiently down by the gate,
For time means nothing, and nothing means time when he’s up on the back of his steed;
He’s out past religion, he’s out beyond colour, or nation, or gender, or creed.

I would willingly swap with his lot, and atop of his mount I would happily ride.
I’d gallop. I’d canter. I’d swoop and I’d soar. I’d rocket. I’d thunder. I’d glide.
I’d ride past the moon. I’d ride past the sun. I’d ride past the stars of the night.
The sound of the hooves would grow fainter and fainter. At last I would vanish from sight.

Do you know what it means when the sound of the world is a very long distance away?
When the men and the women have all gone to sleep, and the gods have all come out to play?
Do you know what it means when the Earth disappears, and the Sun is another small star?
When you’re really not sure of the who or the why or the where or the when that you are?

Pronto whistled his golden horse, and balanced at Time’s fine edge.
If Pronto could do it, I’m sure I can too. That is my perilous pledge,
For the saddle is sure and the stirrups are strong. Though I might arrive early or late,
I know I’ll come through for my rendezvous with the woman that stands at the gate.

© Stephen Whiteside 24.08.013

[Neville Briggs]

Someone has said that one of the main principles of post-modernism is that everything must be doubted; except the fundamental principle that everything must be doubted

[Maureen K Clifford]

WOW - I think perhaps I am missing the deeper meaning here with this one but I certainly like it Stephen. Time waits for no man.

[Stephen Whiteside]

Thanks Neville, Maureen. Don't look too deeply, Maureen, you might be disappointed!