contemplativeEdge of Me
Bonus Poem for Day 145 – 20150525
Time is a constant, warped by the self,
slowing or speeding by will of the self.
Would time stand still if I lived half a life,
measured by the glimpses of enjoyment passing?
Walking in circles, paths worn in the dust,
diversions fleeting as ground passes by.
Ghosts of the past live in the life of now,
warning that I should ask once again.
Does time speed by with chances not taken,
racing forward with so much yet to be done?
The distance holds steady, life blurs past,
I shuffle forward as time asks its price.
People not treasured, events not grasped,
what would my world be if I awoke?
Time is a constant, but I am not so,
life is to be lived even if I don't.
© 2015. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved
