v2. The Generation Ship

[alonso ramoran]

The Generation Ship

Time moves backward—
or, its current awaits surrender, seconds losing
measurement:

Here is the bed I was kept from,
as I answered to many names,
though my answers could never be heard
with the voice of a body.

And above, that clear blue window of air
is for looking into the space
ahead and left behind,
the future and past. Yes I remember:
time must be created
to guide the vessel,
not counted.

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, deprived sorrows, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing, that I counted away
wonderful beings. How
strange it is now
to return to the source—a tear to its oldest ocean, seconds
slowing
into one
moment in the waves
of forever.

The details of the moment become the dream,
the creation of time,
this vessel's direction.

v1
The Generation Ship

Time moves backward—
or, its current awaits surrender, seconds losing
measurement:

Here is the bed I was kept from,
as I answered to many names,
though my answers could never be heard
through the voice of a body.

And above, that clear blue window of air
is for looking into the space
ahead and left behind,
the future and past. Yes I remember:
time must be created
to guide the vessel,
not counted.

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, my sorrow, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing, that I counted away
wonderful beings. How
strange it is now
to return to the source—a tear to its oldest ocean, seconds
slowing

into a moment in the waves of forever.
The details of the moment become the remembered dream,
the light for all movement in space.

[JamesG]

The Generation Ship

Time moves backward—
or, its current awaits surrender, seconds losing
measurement:

Here is the bed I was kept from,
as I answered to many names,
though my answers could never be heard
through the voice of a body.

And above, that clear blue window of air
is for looking into the space
ahead and left behind,
the future and past. Yes I remember:
time must be created
to guide the vessel,
not counted.

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, my sorrow, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing, that I counted away
wonderful beings. How
strange it is now
to return to the source—a tear to its oldest ocean, seconds
slowing

into a moment in the waves of forever.
The details of the moment become the remembered dream,
the light for all movement in space.

I like this, and yet I do not think I understand it, at least on a conscious level; not everything is written to be understood of course. It almost reads like it is a translation from another, long-lost language (no bad thing, I am a fan of translated poetry). I really like the lines here, as I have always loved the word vespertine. 

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, my sorrow, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing,

though you might lose the 

that I counted away
wonderful beings.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

[alonso ramoran]

The Generation Ship

Time moves backward—
or, its current awaits surrender, seconds losing
measurement:

Here is the bed I was kept from,
as I answered to many names,
though my answers could never be heard
through the voice of a body.

And above, that clear blue window of air
is for looking into the space
ahead and left behind,
the future and past. Yes I remember:
time must be created
to guide the vessel,
not counted.

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, my sorrow, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing, that I counted away
wonderful beings. How
strange it is now
to return to the source—a tear to its oldest ocean, seconds
slowing

into a moment in the waves of forever.
The details of the moment become the remembered dream,
the light for all movement in space.

I like this, and yet I do not think I understand it, at least on a conscious level; not everything is written to be understood of course. It almost reads like it is a translation from another, long-lost language (no bad thing, I am a fan of translated poetry). I really like the lines here, as I have always loved the word vespertine. 

So long have I placed faith
in a reunion with the self, my sorrow, vespertine
dark of wisdom, under the conditions
of the body's passing,

though you might lose the 

that I counted away
wonderful beings.

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

JamesG,

Hoping this rewrite will carry with it some clarity, thank you for your feedback.

[Bruce V]

An interesting meditation on time, as if you were examining a curious object, turning it over and around, looking at it from varying angles. No particular conclusion to the meditation; none needed. A little suggestion: remove the "or" from second line. Enjoyable work.