In everything we do
We mark it, mark it,
Pen it down,
As if time can be manipulated
when actions bear inked proof.
If not for this, there’d be no
Hesitation--no timeslines, dates,
and checkmarks.
(This happened when and where to whom?)
A blended blur of colors, sound bites
Speeding week to month to year
Wrinkles, gray hair springing up
Without regard to what resides within
Everyone who has ever come before
has moved through Life
Hoping
It will
Slow down
Just for them. (You are the special one
For whom Time doth stand still.)
If you're lucky, you get to sit
On the sidelines
for a briefly-timed
Time Out,
Catching one’s breath, watching others,
and marking,
Penning down a path for all who follow,
Every mortal seeking immortality
Right up to the end.
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