Drops of Time

Time is the gift that slips through the hands
Just like the water we scoop to quench our thirst.
Even when our fingers are tightly closed
We still manage to lose some drops;
Drops that fell into the ground and are forever lost.
I wish it was not impossible to live it all,
But time is wasted in trivial things,
And we must forgo other wonderful things.
Is not that I fear death so much,
I made peace with it in the years past.
I just wish it would take its time,
But for time that is simply absurd.
Time must move in its steady pace,
In order to hold onto its given name.
Is not that I fear death so much,
But I’ve lost many minutes in the ground;
It is simply a sad fact that I won’t have time
To do all the things I want.

Beatriz X (C) 2012

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About B. Meza

Writing is liberating.
This entry was posted in Poetry, Thoughts about life and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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