continuing the exploration of IS

6.20 and my iphone comes to life telling me that I have slept my allotted 7 hours. Downstairs I can hear the dogs nudging the doors to their crates, and descend to release them into the garden. Then fed we embark on our circle of the villages, passing All Saints, The Barn and Bird’s Grange on the right as we saunter towards Great Bookham, and then up to Polesden Lacey before turning back home on the Guildford Road. We skirt the KGV and turn at St Lawrence – where we hear the chimes strike 8.00 – into The Street, and then past Bevans head into Middle Farm Place, the long meadow where I let them off their leashes. I watch them run, play in the long wet grass, licking the dew from the weighted stems as if it were the first. I can hear the drumbeat of the woodpeckers loud from within the distant copse of greening ash and rain glossed yew, and am reminded of the choate rhythm of nature’s clock and our own problematic relationship with time. I take out my phone  – a reminder telling me i have a call at 9.00 – and record:


in time there is no time

except that which we have to grieve the passing of time,

that which IS crumbling into that which WAS

and we, fearful of the time to come,

sit in our darkened spaces splintered,

desperate, clutching onto the cracked bottles

in which we think we have captured time

and watch the shimmering fireflies of our mind


        until there is no more time.

© Bhi 2023
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An interesting piece, the development from the initial prose poetry into a more condensed reflection; I liked it. Also, Effingham, if I’m not mistaken?


It also reminded me of our own perambulations each morning, myself, the good wife, and Bobby the Springer Spaniel (still with us!).



this is time.

(I am against using crates for dogs – I am sure it is unpleasant and uncomfortable for any dog that is not sick and/or old and needs such a space to sleep and be monitored for medication – 7 hours? too long)

Last edited 2 years ago by ifyouplease

you probably have not read the comment on one by Supratik I think explaining what is this schema, sacred geometry of time and space, the two cones I used L in greek and V to depict the cones and O which is now, the photon that scanned the universe and returned to its original thesis the two cones past and future which is let’s say future perfect.

Last edited 2 years ago by ifyouplease

Sounds like a very pleasant place to live and walk your dogs. I can understand how the beauty of early morning can bring on poetic thoughts. Walking my dog by the river every morning is a good start to the day, especially when I see the occasional kingfisher or cormorant. Today a mummy duck with ten fluffy offspring passed by. Sadly I guess some will fall to Pike.

You IS and WAS musing brought this to mind:

‘The hand is on one minute past. . . . That was you last chance.’


Bhi, i have to say i really enjoy your walks. Some theoretical physicist i heard tried to explain that time is an illusion, that there is no past or present, that every moment of time exists simultaneously, but i call this bunk–time is precious and limited.

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