Shards of glass fall to the floor…
Remains of time come crashing.
The Shattered fragments scatter–
But looking down I find…
~Time doesn’t matter.
Days could pass…
Who would know?
Without the glass…
How can we show
~Our time has come and gone?
If the ticking of clocks
All were to stop…
And hands froze in position…
Who could tell how much time we’re missing?
If our lives weren’t measured by hours…
How would we spend our sweet time?
Days consume… Devour…
~Too much time’s wasted–
Worrying about Time itself.
Think not of breaths taken each moment,
But each moment that took that breath away.
Seize each waking as if….
~It’s your very last day……
Before there really is…. No Time….