The Bones of Time
Upon reading poet Robert Okaji’s poem Ritual, I was reminded of a recent experience.
Recently I had the privilege of examining up close (touching) the right foot bones of an Ornithomimid dinosaur, dated to 75 million years old. I overlaid my hand on the bones, and felt a rather profound kinship through touch, examining each for minutes at a time. I wish I were a true poet like Robert who could put into literary colors what the passing of 75 million years into my soul felt like. This 6 foot 5 inch dinosaur spent its life prowling and eating, then lay in the ground for millions of years before being unearthed by paleontologists and preserved for study. Think about it. Mankind came onto the scene millions of years after its death. The ancient Sumerians, the pyramids, ancient China, Jesus Christ, the Roman Empire, the Renaissance, Van Gogh, the airplane, the car, computers, the Internet… all the while this Ornithomimid laid in the ground, a 75 million year journey into my hands.
These bones are all that remain of this one creature, and yet they are the bones of life, of our understanding (paleontology). They teach us, enlighten us, and hopefully humble us as we consider how short the life of a man is when compared to all time preceding it. This one right foot took me out of my Self and put me into its time, into the bones of time itself.
Life is short; spend it writing poems, making music, blogging, painting and so on. Cover time’s bones with your Life…