Long ago, Pueblo Indians crouching
on the rocky slopes of Chaco Canyon ,
charted the silent sun and moon passing
overhead; cut slits in rocks where light shone
like daggers, marking seasons, solstices,
equinoxes; they built temples to
mirror angles of heavenly bodies
with the earth as they traversed to and fro.
So do I measure the passage of time,
most precious commodity of the old,
with digital clock and musical chime.
Too fast flows the contemporary world,
I am trapped in my calendar of days.
Only God metes time in mystical ways.
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