Enormous years

Here is the same clock that walked quietly
Through those enormous years I half recall,
When between one blue summer and another
Time seemed as many miles as round the world,
And world a day, a moment or a mile,
Or a sweet slope of grass edged with the sea,
Or a new song to sing, or a tree dressed in gold
Time and the world that faster spin until,
Mind cannot grasp them now or heart take hold.

Only the sound of the clock is still the same.
Each of us followed it to a different hour
that like a bushranger held its guns on us
and forced our choice. And the clock begins to race.
We are caught in the endless circle of time and star
That never chime with the blood; we weary; we grow lame,
Stumbling after their incessant pace
That slackens for us only when we are
Caught deep in sleep, or music, or a lovers face.

- Judith Wright, "The Moving Image", 1946

I got in my car for destinations unknown on Thursday, and found myself in my old neighborhood by St. Kate's, contemplating where life has taken my friends, family...myself. I can never foresee when the world will speak to me; I found this quote in my inbox today. It speaks so well to that nostalgic ache.