If I remember first thing in the morning
And open my eye lids slowly,
Will my day slow?
If I quietly and gently pull back the covers
And slowly roll my legs and hips off the bed
Then place my feet onto the cool wood floor
And sit there for a while contemplating
The beginning of my day
Will it slow?
If instead of walking, I crawl on all fours
Knees and hands to the floor
As if this were the way I’ve always ambulated
Would my day slow?
If I looked and walked backwards
Not looking forward
But always where I had been
Would time move slower?
Maybe if I just become cognizant of the present
Not look forward or backward
Trying to gather lucidity of the ‘now’
The present, ‘Be here now, Remember’
Time stands still