In the quiet corridors of loss, where shadows stretch long and memories linger like the faint perfume of a departed loved one, we find ourselves donning invisible masks. These are not mere disguises but profound metaphors for the myriad ways we shield our vulnerability, our raw and aching grief from the world’s gaze. Just as the poem “Veils of Time and Infinity” suggests, these masks serve as both a barrier and a balm, hiding the depth of our pain while allowing us to navigate the day-to-day.
The imagery of a clock, its hands inexorably falling towards numbers that whisper of something beyond, serves as a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of our existence. The poem deftly weaves this moment, 10 and 11, into a rhyme with ‘heaven,’ suggesting a thin, almost translucent veil between the now and the eternal. It’s a vivid depiction of how, in moments of profound loss, the boundaries between this world and the next seem to blur, offering a glimmer of continuity or perhaps a promise of reunion.
As we reflect on the passage of time, marked by the silent procession of clock hands, we are invited to consider our place within this vast, unfathomable universe. The clock, with its falling dial and pointed numbers, becomes more than a timekeeper; it is a symbol of our own mortality, a reminder of the inexorable march towards an unknown that lies just beyond our comprehension.
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