Category Archives: Time

Ode to Time

Hours and hours, a timeless flow.
Where does all our spent time go?
Is it not a currency that we spend?
What location do our transactions send
These dollars and coins, these units of time,
Intoxicate us just like wine.
Everything in moderation; we must not waste.
Everything has a time, every thing has a place.
And as for the question: “Where does time go?”
It goes nowhere, for there is nowhere to go.

All is Laid to Rest

Once forgotten all is laid
To rest and in the grave.
He profits nothing from the past
There’s nothing there of what lasts.
If it cannot get him through the day
It might as well be locked away.
To be sure there’s beauty there,
Joy and freedom, all but rare,
And mixed up in times shifting sands.
Irretrievable! They’re left to this desolate land!
He awakens the next day none the wiser.
Or is he now he won’t dredge the desert to find her?
I’ll leave that question to philosophers who will,
Debate his morality while sitting on a hill.

Time Will Tell

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Time will tell if he is only
Worth such trouble and dying slowly,
Already at the end of his rope,
Strength fading, but still, hope!
Everything that he was told,
These lies, to him that were sold.
“Wake up! Sleep no longer!”,
Forever silent cries,
“Listen fool, awaken stronger.”
Or on deaf ears fallen will he die?
We will see on the morrow,
Will he rise and cease to borrow
Or take that wisdom and then sell
It off?
Only time will tell.

The Cycle Onward

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Ending then,
Ending when?
Another day to memory send.
There you see, the path that winds,
Guided slowly by the unkind.
So haste the day that I may find,
A place to rest this tired mind.
One more night and one more only,
Before the troubled and weary stone me;
That eyeless face by moonlight shown me,
I shouldn’t follow but no one told me.
How I got past is not your concern.
Some like to listen and some like to learn,
This is a thing that I have observed,
That there are others who watch the world burn.

Borrowed Time

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The moments we have are not our own,
Borrowed time and borrowed home.
What time we have we spend and we,
Commit too much and become debtors. He
Lends only a fixed amount,
A sum so high that we can’t count.
That is a number we’ll never know.
Spending each minute as if our last so,
Once our last is spent it’s no suprise,
If lived as such the rest of our lives.

Running Down

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Who can own him: entropy?
What is said and seen the way that we,
Commit all of this to memory,
Would reflect in what we say.
Times weathering isn’t seen today.
Entropy, disorder, decline, decay,
All too slowly move, we can’t observe.
Tomorrow forgotten, we only self-serve.
It is as much as we deserve.
So we take entropy, our prize.
Every moment we despise,
Each other.
For taking too long to decide.
Which way to go, which path to take:
The way to reverse this,
Or the easy one?
Running out of time,
This decision we must make.

Just Another Day

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That was just another day
The cat sits and stares, and seems to say:
“Rest, this is the end of your trail.
Tomorrow is a different tale.
This day was one and tomorrow the same.”
Day in day out, nothing much changed.
The voices follow me home, but i decline to listen.
Morning sunlight on the dew drops glisten.
A sleepless night behind.
The cold dawn responds in kind,
And without noticing, slips by,
One into the next and I cry.
This is the day I deserve to die.
But so was yesterday and so is tomorrow,
Not knowing which is which,
From the future, time I’ll borrow.