I imagine that the question
could be a statement of sorts
or the mere fact that each letter that turns into words
eats slowly away at time
We mark time from the second of our birth
our birth is marked from inception
and then the page turns
and time is measured by how much is left
for we all have a beginning and an end
and we have little to say on either
we can extend our time, sometimes
we can use our time as we wish
but time wasn't measured in calendars
time pieces or that old grandfather clock
time was measured by the sun,
the sky and the moon
days weren't named for convenience
who determined a minute is the length of seconds
why is a day a day
why do we even celebrate still breathing
knowing that the worms will eventually find a way
to turn us dust and bones
they live within us patiently waiting
for the final grand feast
where does time really go?
Barb
