What is time?
Why do we wrap ourselves in such a small word
and let it control our daily lives?
What is the meaning?
How does one grasp life without it…
We say it every day….
…If I only had the time
…If I have the time
…There isn’t enough time for that
What once represented the harvest, seasons, and death
is now a constant strain and worry.
Trying to move faster, be more efficient, making each second count,
only to reach the end of your days with no time left.
What do we leave behind?
How have we used all that time?
Have we spent it wisely,
Or have we squandered it away on meaningless pleasures?
In a grave is where we end, surrounded by people
who realize that their own clock is ticking away to nothing….
written by: Ellen Fredrickson