Devouring Time

For those who have no fear of Time
Comes an appetite for more experiences

Time…

If you let it,
Has a glutinous appetite


A Clock…

Has no table mamers

And the neighborhood church bell…

Chimes every hour
As if each echo warns us of endings

But
Voracious is the sensorial palate’s desire for borderless days and nights,
Where newly discovered flavors of existence
Often ignores the call for napkins of propriety
To be laid to rest atop one’s table of new sensorium tastes,
That place where freedom of Time’s restraints
Can be a period of discovery,
Where one’s countdown is given
Whatever length of discernment needed,
As if one had just stepped off a train
And is confronted with experience choices
Never seen before.

How impatient many are,
Those who allow their guardedness
To override their taking a chance on anything
That might not make a perfect fit.

Before one’s life
Is a feast of sensory flavors and textures,
Savory moments,
Sweet memories,
Bittersweet encounters,
And sour regrets.

Glasses can be made to clink with laughter,
Especially those who gobble up for joy
As one savors each bite of happiness.

Of course…

There are those occasions deserving only a nibble,
As many encounters come with cautious responses,
Unsure of the taste
Or of the digestibility.

To give free rein to Time’s incessant demands,
Is to let it become a vacuum,
Sucking all one’s living adventures
Into a thimble-sized taster only.

Index each morsel of enrichment as part of your story.

Make each sip a memory,
And avoid deadlines.

Remember…

You are the master of your tenure
In this limited human existence.

Continue devouring Time
As if your life depended on it.