These past few nights,
eyes sore, muscles aching,
I value something.
Something I've never valued before.

Time is precious,
that's what they say.
But why doesn't time
find favor in me?

So much to do,
so little time to do them.
Can my troubles just
fade away from existence?

Time is precious
that's what they say.
But why can't time
do them so quickly?

These past few nights,
mouth dry, hands hurting,
I value something.
Something I've never valued before.

It has depleted.
It ran out.
I used it up.
And now it is time.

But I didn't realize,
That I depended so much on,
I built so much on,
I made so much on,
something as fragile
as sand.

Now I am suffering
the consequences.
But since,
I have moved on.
I no longer rely,
on such a depletable resource.

It has depleted.
It ran out.
But it still feels like
I can't continue without it.

A boy stood proudly outside,
the front steps of his home.
A note and pen in hand,
carefree.
Basking in the wind that blew,
the trees that swayed,
the ants that crawled upon the stone.

Eyes that saw the world,
examined through a different lens.
Eyes that saw the beauty of a single seed.
Eyes that saw the significance,
of a rock tossed in the pond.
Eyes that saw the fascination,
of a plant once spawned.

Sunshine seemed to follow him wherever he went.
But the rest did not agree.
When he tried to speak,
the beautiful objects he saw,
the complexity he’d seen,
they seemed to put a tape over his mouth.
He tried spreading sunshine.
But it was quickly extinguished.

They told him to keep quiet,
they told him to keep it to himself.
They told him it wasn't right
to voice out such audacious findings.
They told him to shut up.

He went home with this thought,
looming over his head.
Every day, of every week, of every month.
Of every year.
It changed him.

The eyes that once saw,
extravagance…
The ears that listened,
patiently,
The mouth that could only find itself,
spewing words of life.
They all had left him.

His mind was caged.
Thoughts bottled up inside.
Beauty was replaced by ignorance, misery, death.
He became like the others.

And I would dread the day when
his curiosity would be curious
no more.

There is something tugging at me,
through the years.
A question clawing away,
in the recesses of my mind.

I feel like outdated technology.
I feel is as if I cannot keep up with
the rapidly changing times.
I can rewind.
I desperately want to rewind.
But everyone will leave me behind.

But it is as if I do not belong,
in this time. This place.
I can't bring myself to conform.
I can't be compatible.
**And I do not know what to do about it.