No Time

Canyons and mesas
have no use for time-pieces;
moments are measured in blowing dust,
hours by how far of a walk it is
to the nearest water hole,
days by sun's rise flowing into sun's set,
season's by birds migration back and forth.
No calendars to pressure,
no must do list,
only survive
and fully live.
In the world
where alarm clocks rule human beings
no one ever truly wakes up;
kept in a daze of capture regrets, and
bound there by unnecessary needs,
that their hearts quietly contend
are worthless.
Man's obsession with time
is an almost unforgivable vice,
that like alcohol addiction
has done more harm than we shall ever understand.
But, out there where the ghost of a warrior
still swims the ruddy river free,
nothing has changed.
This is the land
without time.

poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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