How hastily we live our lives
while the clock keeps ticking
ever watchful and wondering
why we treasure time so little
hastily rushing to and fro
tending life and meeting obligations
never finding the right moment
to appreciate the butterfly when it pauses
view the daylilies brief hours of life
hear the songs the birds offer
feel the unspoken words within a child’s hand
inhale the perfume of the day
all too soon the twilight darkens
forever the day is gone
what price paid for the day just spent
the clock at six and twelve displayed
hands in prayer to slow us down
yet we did not heed but rushed on forgetful
that eventually the clock will wind down
the hands forever frozen in time.
this reckless abandon of which you speak is our response to a reality we know we cannot overcome -- so we show a face of bravado to the wings of time -- hoping to fool and elude that which is so rude and cruel -- peace and love my friend -- Jon Michael
Marcia, how can I be seventy-five? How? How can I have a fifty-two year old son? How? Time moves with the speed of light. Time is the speed of light. I should be twenty-nine not seventy-five. Flying by so swiftly, I look at the year as having two days: The Fourth of July and then, tomorrow, it's Christmas and the day after Christmas is the Fourth of July.
All we can do, Marcia, is make the best of it.
Mark
Excellent write Marcia, you've captured our helplessness to what essentially is a a concept, an idea. How much more would we see if we stepped outside the concept. We are but slaves to an illusion.
Old Time, in whose banks we deposit our notes
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
Blessings ...
So very true, Marcia, I always wonder especially on
the highways, Why is everyone in such a hurry?
I have learned to cherish every moment.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on September 4, 2009
Hah! Hello Marcia. It seems both of us had time in their thoughts today. Time seems to only become important when there isn't all that much left of it. Liked the frozen hand technique.
In a near-future Baltimore, an unemployed bipolar journalist and a teenage hacker are the last hope for a dystopian world controlled by a giant media corporation.
Assistant County Attorney Ken Anderson spends his weekends drinking and running around. After waking up with another hangover, Ken decides not to drink so much anymore. Ken and his buddy, Tony, go out to eat and see Mia Correa and Faye Kincaid at the
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Love ya!
Jane Noponen Perinacci
Myrna
view the daylilies brief hours of life
hear the songs the birds offer
Truly things we should all do more of before that clock runs out.
All we can do, Marcia, is make the best of it.
Mark
Blessings
Paul;-)
Is a miser who always wants guineas for groats;
He keeps all his customers still in arrears
By lending them minutes and charging them years.
Blessings ...
the highways, Why is everyone in such a hurry?
I have learned to cherish every moment.
Now, a day gone is a day wasted if we didn't say hello as it was passing by.
Georg
Best regards,
Leland