At the same time being and becoming

parallel dimension

Parallel Dimension

At the same time being and becoming,
Letting go of now,
It’s the whistle while you’re humming,
With the puzzlement of how.
To be the parent of tomorrow,
And the child of today,
With the sentiment of sorrow,
That promises to stay.
To be oneself and find contentment,
But to know it won’t endure,
To struggle with resentment,
You’re safe but not secure.
. In a parallel dimension do we still exist?
. Do archived remnants of ourselves persist?

© Tim Grace, 10 October 2010

To the reader: The multi-layered dimensions of life are not neatly stacked into rows nor columns. In a physical sense most of what we did yesterday is irretrievably gone. Likewise, tomorrow’s organization is as much fantasy as it is fact. And so today becomes the main arena, the fleeting zone of action and influence. By necessity then, much of what is done is overlapped with conflicting pressures and contrasting roles; all at once occurring.

To the poet: The subject of this sonnet is the conundrum. The persistent puzzle of being and becoming all at once. The challenge of writing a convincing argument about puzzlement is to end it still in wonder; and so the last two lines are questions. In this sonnet the rhyming structure (ABAB) could be split into two halves (AABB) and almost keep its sense of narrative.

 

parallel dimension

parallel dimension

 

at the same time

At the Same Time

At the same time being and becoming,
Letting go of now,
It’s the whistle while you’re humming,
With the puzzlement of how.
To be the parent of tomorrow,
And the child of today,
With the sentiment of sorrow,
That promises to stay.
To be oneself and find contentment,
But to know it won’t endure,
To struggle with resentment,
To be safe but not secure.
. In a parallel dimension do we still exist?
. Do archived remnants of ourselves persist?

© Tim Grace, 10 October 2010

To the reader: Being in the now is a temporary state of presence. A non-permanent proposition that fleetingly describes all that is at a single point of time. Now is nothing more than a bridge that spans all things separated by the passage of two moments. Confusion of now as a permanent state renders the past obsolete, and casts the future as a thief; through now we nurse resentment.

To the poet: The philosophical sonnet is a good time filler. Pick a topic and ponder. In this poem thoughts, almost statements, about past, present and future unfold in couplets. The poem concludes obtusely at a final couplet containing two questions. Writing a pointless poem finds its justification in playfulness; as a creative piece of text it has an interesting shape and form; the rhymes are enjoyable and the theme is universal.

 

at the same time at the same time