I like these two poems as they capture some of what has been in my thoughts these last few days. They are both by Rabindranath Tagore 1861-1941, a Bengali poet, essayist, dramatist, composer and philosopher. He was the first non-European to win the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1913.
There is none to count your minutes.
Days and nights pass and ages bloom and fade like flowers.
You know how to wait.
Your centuries follow each other perfecting a small wild flower.
We have no time to lose,
And having no time we must scramble for a chance.
We are too poor to be late.
And so it is that time goes by
While I give it to every querulous man who claims it,
And Your altar is empty of all offerings to the last.
At the end of the day I hasten in fear lest Your gate be shut;
But I find that yet there is time.
I thought that my voyage had come to its end
at the last limit of my power
that the path before me was closed,
that provisions were exhausted
and the time come to take shelter in a silent obscurity.
But I find that Your will knows no end in me.
And when old words die out on the tongue,
new melodies break forth from the heart;
and where the old tracks are lost,
new country is revealed with its wonders.
From: 'The Heart of God' selected and edited by Herbert F. Vetter
It is the fourth in a series of films. from a one second short film contest, "The Beauty of a Second,"hosted by Wim Wenders and Montblanc, in tribute to the man who invented the chronograph, Nicolas Rieussec. They are described as an exploration of presision and art – a homage to capturing the smallest fragments of time.