Books, books, everywhere books at the bookstore.
I’ll spend a good part of my day here.
I amble towards the science section.
In search of Time, Quantum Theory for poets.

Time is a series of nows leading towards a future.
Maybe time proceeds because of the elements.
If every element exploded on reacting.
Nothing would adhere – there would be no Earth.

No Sun No Galaxies, No living things.
Formed from a slow and pent up chemistry.
Nor would there be an orderly series of nows.
Yet there is an Earth circling a Sun.

With land and water and living things.
Everything held in place by gravity.
In the unified theory of everything.
Gravity is electromagnetic radiation

A stream of gravitons, like a stream of photons.
Gravity akin to light.
And the concept of time begins with light.
Alternating with darkness
For a countable passage of time.

I move on towards the poetry section.
A poetry handbook opens to miter.
How every word contributes to the flow of the line.

Like photons strung together in a ray of light.
Like a symphony beyond the notes that comprise it.
Like a series of nows that comprise a lifetime.

Poetry takes us to a higher place.
I used to think that any definition
Of poetry must include that higher place.

Not until I abandoned that notion
Could I arrive at a definition:
Poetry is discourse, with words
Arranged according to rhythm and sound,
And whose purpose is to create
An emotional response from the hearer.
I look at my watch its 3pm
Time to go home, relax and unwind.