Soundless Rush

Time makes no sound as it rushes

In moment-spun centuries

Gathering within its surging wake

Nothing, but memories

Thought is a wandering way-farer

Treading where feet cannot go

Back to the hours that silently slipped

Into Time’s ethereal flow

Within its ephemeral fabric

Of woven mortality

Are heart-wrenching triumphs and sorrows

Brief as sun-sparkles at sea

The babble of being distracts us

From Time’s intangible rush

But oh, just now I felt on my cheek

A drop from its relentless brush

© J~

My 'soundless rush' will soon be full of noise

...the kind made only by four fourteen year-old boys!:)

Matt has some friends over. I think they finally went to sleep a few hours ago!