Day Of The Orchid Poem by Bill Cantrell

From tho womb of the dawn,
time was summoned to the table of purpose
The hourglass of today was a spherical orb,
an embryonic paradox with endless facets of thought,
this being the mind of the one who had no beginning
Time had no purpose until it was given feet as well as hands
Then the sphere was severed and waterfalls of creativity,
poured out both spirit and plans,
however mater was congealed and dwelled only
within the mind of the one who always was
Time stared to walk when realms were erected,
and gated entrances were established
As the earth was built as a home for mankind,
before man took his first step
The same was such with the spirit realm,
thus all life was placed in the vast river or time
Then it was given eyes and denied to ever sleep,
hands to keep records were attached to her
To this day, it cannot be explained in its entirety
It is more than fundamental increments,
or euclidean gesturing of geometrical equations
Where there is life there is time attached to it
Eons passed with a hissing
Then the hour glass was reshaped for man
Each grain of sand varies in size and facets,
as a crude attempt to measure one single increment
Go to the orchid
Notice how long she holds on to her petals
How can this be?
She uses time wisely, for it is only to us,
she holds them so long,
and it is when we are not looking,
she lets each one fall to the ground
So I have come to a consensus,
life is a beautiful orchid
We can choose to bloom beautifully
with time either creeping slowly
of speeding by,
of course this being measured according to our outlook
It has very well been said
When the last orchid dies,
There will be no time left to cry