I am here, my children,
Still here, forever here.
Time still flows evenly, endlessly,
Suffusing all earthly things
With a past and a future, with hope and change.
But I am here, waiting patiently outside the flow,
As I have always been
In your absence.
This is your home; I am your home,
And long after the beams and rafters
Have succumbed to the relentless flow,
This will still be your source,
The silenced headwaters of your time.
Time no longer flows through me,
Nor do my eyes follow
The passing of seasons,
The rise and fall of lives,
The motions of the spheres.
I do not feel the weight of waiting
For what will or will not ever be,
Nor view the ageless scene around me
As it drifts on the tide of aeons.
I am merely here, in everything.
I am here if ever you return,
Alone, or with reluctant children,
Or just in unbidden reveries.
And whenever you do, I am here,
Waiting to live again in memory.
I am not weary of the waiting,
Nor of the view.