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There is irony in the feeling of pure wonder when we stop and consider the span of our lives as a quantifiable experience.  While we focus on certain moments deemed worthy of anticipatory countdowns, so many others pass without any acknowledgment.

Life is many days
Tell you this I know
And beg forgive, they’re not my words
But truth passed from ago

Moments in a second lost
Are never found again
Invest not in the wares of time
The commodity of when

The breadth of minute grasp
Is ne’er enough to hold
A slip from hands gone sweeping by
An hour has yet grown old

Breathe between the constant ticks
When breath is but a gasp
And cradle precious memory
Lest forgotten be the past


1 Comment

December 21, 2013 · 9:28 pm