its forty-eight minutes past seven pm

time ticks on*

fingers tap on

hearts beat on

eyes search forward

minds yearn more

souls grow tired

so another day sets

another day is gone

was today an accomplishment?

was today a waste?

did you take a second to contemplate?

fingers grow numb

hearts grow warm

*bodies begin to ache, at the thought of time slowly but surely slipping away, marking the certainty of life, that it will end one day, and we will all return back to the One who gave us life in the first place