A poem about not having enough time
By any mortal pair of eyes.
Since time began this has been
When it starts and stops, there are cries.
In the beginning the hand moves slowly, then suddenly it flies.
At a frantic pace it goes, and try as you might
The rapid hand will not be stalled
Though brave souls put forth a fight
The speed will only build, till you become one with the light.
So with all this known, we somehow must rejoice.
Stop listening to the clock.
Find your place, use your voice.
Let the clock do as it may
Seize this moment, enjoy this day.
Poetry by AL DAMORE
Read 871 times
Written on 2006-08-10 at 01:27
Tags Time Death
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
The Clock
The clock is present,though it can't be seenBy any mortal pair of eyes.
Since time began this has been
When it starts and stops, there are cries.
In the beginning the hand moves slowly, then suddenly it flies.
At a frantic pace it goes, and try as you might
The rapid hand will not be stalled
Though brave souls put forth a fight
The speed will only build, till you become one with the light.
So with all this known, we somehow must rejoice.
Stop listening to the clock.
Find your place, use your voice.
Let the clock do as it may
Seize this moment, enjoy this day.
Poetry by AL DAMORE
Read 871 times
Written on 2006-08-10 at 01:27
Tags Time Death
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text|
keith nunes |
