I'm dying at this opportunity
trying not to think, as I
my old self would
with anxiousness and wonderous worry
at these days to hurry
so that this history might
rewrite itself
and this time, this time
might not pass us by

When I think back now
To a time when time was not
Of such vibrant thought
And I feel the weight of be
In this world of being now

(Where I Am More Aware, Now)

Time knows not it's own
Ticks and subtle sounding clicks
Which pass by like days
In the minds of men who know
That life as is exisits

(Time's Arrow)

The snow how it flies
The raindrops which weep and cry
The sunlight rays keep
And the breeze which tries to speak
All have this in common

(Those things which tell us were alive)