"Time held me green and dying/ Though I sang in my chains like the sea." ~ Dylan Thomas. I'm beginning to find something in poetry. I never did before, but everyone changes life makes you change. This poem is about pastoral Wales and childhood; it makes you think about returning to places you haven't been in a long time. Will they be the same or if the place will be gone; still physically there for others but not the same place you remember. As we were reading the poem today I thought about Wales and driving out of Gower, will I ever see it again? The ponies and the rugged grass offset by the cliffs and sea, I may look at it again but I won't see the same thing. I'll see it with anticipation perhaps or maybe expectations, but surprise? Worries? Probably not.
What about being chained to time? Sometimes I want to brake the clocks arms and make the tick tock stop so I can be closer to a different time. But we are in fact, chained to the clock no matter how many arms we intend on braking. Maybe I'll age with grace, and won't have to worry about the pesky clock's tick tock's. Perhaps it will be better the next time around and when I see things again it will be even better. I wonder about people too, and what will happen to my opinions over time. Will there always be excitement with certain people or will that die? I really don't know, but things like that scare me. A lot of things scare me being forgotten over time, scares me. Can a place forget you, can people forget?
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