The twist of time is a beautiful thing,
The march to death a rebellious act,
Against a force we cannot understand,
But time is also a cruel, unwavering beast,
Racing beside me as I run,
Towards a diverging path,
How can it make me choose?
Why would such a spectacular entity,
Limit my very existence?
There is too much,
To feel,
To do,
To learn,
To hate,
To love,
How am I meant to truly feel fulfilled?
The beautiful expression in art,
The calculated confidence of mathematics,
The marvelous exploration,
And misunderstanding of understanding in science,
Feeling in touch with history,
Yet so distant as you thrust yourself into its teachings,
The powerful creation in literature,
Both observing and making,
The triumphs and sacrifices,
Of bustling business,
The despair of loss,
The gentle, joyful, heartbreaking, ardent beat in love,
The pain and pleasure of nostalgia,
Feelings with unknown names,
Smiles of friends,
The reassurance that you are not alone,
They run the same race,
And I will never get enough of them,
Mountains,
Seashores,
Fields,
Forests,
Bonfires,
Oceans,
Stars,
Ground,
Castles,
Old houses,
Cramped apartments,
Hotels,
Homes,
Stark white,
Bursts of color,
Solitude,
Companionship,
Possibilities,
How can anyone tie themselves to one thing?
Defining their presence in time,
With a single word,
What are we but soon to be dusty pictures,
Upon time's endless shelf,
Left to be admired,
Or forgotten,
How am I meant to choose,
What I will be remembered for?
Talent is a fence,
A wall that blocks others,
From entering experience,
A fake barrier,
One I refuse to comply to,
I will feel,
Do,
See,
Love,
Hate,
Learn,
Whatever I wish,
Time and Talent will not hold me back,
And as the race rages on,
I will never stop to wonder,
Whether I can accomplish,
Everything,
I will simply do,
I will work with time,
Not against it,
I will no longer try to win the race,
I will not define myself by one trait,
I will not limit myself to one feeling,
I will not measure by time,
I will not give in to the rush,
I will go at leisure,
Meeting,
Creating,
Calculating,
Exploring,
Learning,
Loving,
Whatever I wish,
Time will become a friend,
An old, steadfast companion,
And when I finally march,
Into the arms of its inevitable end,
We will part on good terms,
Finally fulfilled.
ВЫ ЧИТАЕТЕ
The Impossible Race
ПоэзияWow poetry very cool. So deep. Anyways have a slice of my indecisiveness it's not an identity crisis I promise. It's also not what I usually post but you will see that I do not care once you read it.
