like rain

from above
there is little to note

his progress is
steady
as though slowly moving
through snow

from below
silver white
in an expanse
flecked with continent shapes
that stretch
seemingly forever

occasional blue patches
glimpsed momentarily
then swallowed up
again

it is when on the level plane
looking across
that he is revealed

his legs working
feverishly

frantic

a blur of motion
working

updownupdownupdown

ceaselessly
hardly pausing in their
apogee-perigee
relationship
with the whisping cloud

his momentum forward
is a stutter-step
like a wound mechanical

a clockwork toy
focused
on a breathless traverse
that will not tolerate
a stall
a hiccup
a hesitation

driven

updownupdownupdown

for should he stop
suffer a failure
of impetus
he knows

knows surely

he will fall


© Frank Prem, 2017

Poem #29: the time traveler reflects

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