TEMPUS FUGIT

In 1969 I first saw the clock that now hangs in the study at my house not long after I had relocated to the Republic of Singapore. Singapore in those days was nothing like the amazing, modern city tourists flock to see and business men long to include in their plans for the future. Having been expelled from the Federation of Malaysian States for tipping the balance in favor of the Chinese in the federation, the Republic of Singapore was only four years old when I got there. The opium house in the old city was still operating under government supervision because Prime Minister Lee Kuan Yew hadn't yet figured out a way to shut it down without hurting the addicts who went there to get their fix legally every day. If you look closely at the black and white photograph, you'll see a clock on the wall. In 1972 when the place was being closed, I found the clock in the street on a pile of stuff that had been the contents of the house. I bought it for three Singapore dollars, the equivalent in those days of one U.S. dollar. Below the photograph of my wall is a better picture of the clock itself. It's very special to me, not just because it has a fascinating history, but because it reminds me daily of the ticking away of life. Please don't misunderstand and think I consider morbid or discouraging its counting out the minutes of my life. Quite the contrary. The clock is a reminder that I am alive, and happily so.
(Click on an image to see it larger)

“Time is relative”
doesn’t tell the whole story,
doesn’t even explain how
when I was a child
summers were long and languorous
or how
now that I am old
Wednesday comes hard on the heels of Sunday
and December begins immediately after April.

The moon is down
and up at the same time
depending on where you are.

Be patient is good advice
if waiting won’t harm anyone
but is perhaps an error
or even a sin
if it gets in the way
of righting a wrong...

continuing to
forbid two people
who love each other
to marry until the time
is right is wrong.