Florence Meade

I have trouble with the concept of time
Time is relative, but the clock in my consciousness doesn’t tell me the time
It shows and plays me sensations, experiences, memories and dreams of textures, colours, sounds and moods
My thoughts drift back and forth, up and down; dividing, linking, growing
If I take time, my mind is free and perhaps I’ll make something beautiful
If I sell my time, I’m bound
Music and poetry free my mind in time, measuring and celebrating the moments like blessed water