24,720,437.
(give or take a few)
minutes in my life.
the number is profound,
but it's not that easy
to break a life down.
i'm sure there's a calculation, that covers the basics bits work, eating, sleeping, abultions.
but, to bring the moments
to the minutes,
thats a vastly different thing.
how do you count the moments of brillance
that burn bright,
on the horizon beyond and before.
those moments of pure kindness,
or blind and ****** ignorance
that elicit change.
the joy of the moment,
the rage of a second,
the hours borrowed
in worry never
yet to be repaid.
how many minutes
wasted or not fully tasted, devoured to quickly.
those seconds we fumble,
in awkward silences
or those we waste
wanting more.
then the hours of breast beating or simply bleating
are they lesser in importance,
than, the days
lost in thought,
or in grief,
time spent,
begging for relief
from a heart so, so, sore.
remember the weeks
we sent packing,
the fox or the bear,
or the lion and the tiger from fear's flimsy, fragile door.
months of not belonging, then, the longing
and finally the lounging
and laughing,
when tickled to our core.
the tock of the clock
when we are too cold,
or too hot or just not...
quite right.
time that keeps ticking, while,
we are sticking our noses where they are not wanted.
time spent watching
from afar,
minutes of small talk,
hours of deep and meaningful,
days of young love,
months of expectancy,
years of togetherness, decades of love.
a delineation of seperateness,
eons, immemorial
of eternity.
these are the times,
of my minutes,
my moments of grace,
i want these,
ciphered into,
the fabric of time.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:55 PM UTC
24,720,437.
(give or take a few)
minutes in my life.
the number is profound,
but it's not that easy
to break a life down.
i'm sure there's a calculation, that covers the basics bits work, eating, sleeping, abultions.
but, to bring the moments
to the minutes,
thats a vastly different thing.
how do you count the moments of brillance
that burn bright,
on the horizon beyond and before.
those moments of pure kindness,
or blind and ****** ignorance
that elicit change.
the joy of the moment,
the rage of a second,
the hours borrowed
in worry never
yet to be repaid.
how many minutes
wasted or not fully tasted, devoured to quickly.
those seconds we fumble,
in awkward silences
or those we waste
wanting more.
then the hours of breast beating or simply bleating
are they lesser in importance,
than, the days
lost in thought,
or in grief,
time spent,
begging for relief
from a heart so, so, sore.
remember the weeks
we sent packing,
the fox or the bear,
or the lion and the tiger from fear's flimsy, fragile door.
months of not belonging, then, the longing
and finally the lounging
and laughing,
when tickled to our core.
the tock of the clock
when we are too cold,
or too hot or just not...
quite right.
time that keeps ticking, while,
we are sticking our noses where they are not wanted.
time spent watching
from afar,
minutes of small talk,
hours of deep and meaningful,
days of young love,
months of expectancy,
years of togetherness, decades of love.
a delineation of seperateness,
eons, immemorial
of eternity.
these are the times,
of my minutes,
my moments of grace,
i want these,
ciphered into,
the fabric of time.
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