Time is that wind
that wears away our youth like
so much sand ground down,
that wind
that carries us away
and we do not know how
we have arrived
at the places we call home.
Time is that water
that we drink of without thought,
until we find
no more drops left
in the fountain, and we
dry up like so many leaves.
Time is that flame
that drives us on, on,
that heats our passions,
makes us stretch
our desires so the heat
can blaze out,
catch as much of the world
on fire as we may touch.
Time is that soil
within which we plant
seeds of our hope,
tend it with all the elements,
one day to rest, finally,
within its terminal womb,
like so many hopes
laid to rest in the quiet
of its cool darkness. Time,
I do not know if you will remember:
I was that child who
didn't believe you existed.
myraj
6:53pm monday, 5th april
good point. its true that most people as children act as if time does not exist nor does it effect us. But, surely that wasn't a bad time in our lives. it was great to feel like we had forever to live our lives how we wanted. once you reach a certain age you begin to realize how little an amount of time left to us. time begins to controll every aspect of our lives. its very sad really. it makes you wonder. well i'm rambeling so, i go now. great thought stand.
myraj