there is an idea of time - an abstract one,
not concrete, not tangible, not something we can ever hold on
to.
it touches our young hearts
and pulls us - gently, calmly - through
our formative years.
then adulthood strikes and time
grows stronger, more aggressive,
until it is d r a g g i n g us through
thesecondsthe minutesthe years
- all fragments of itself -
before it leaves suddenly
without warning.
we wonder where Time has gone -
Time, that saw us grow.
but Time no longer wants to be found
and has become frustratingly elusive.
it runs away when it is reached for;
it laughs and it snickers and it vaunts
as it swoops out of our clutches and
escapes us once more
and yet we continue to tie it to metaphors
in the hope that we might somehow pin down that ever elusive Time;
we continue to sigh as we breathe out its name
and work out new strategies - better ones -
for Time is something we will forever be chasing -
Time, the winner of that impossible game.