Time


Not enough time, it seems,
To share myself with a loved one.
Not enough time, it seems,
To spend time with my kids and have fun.
Not enough time, it seems,
To finish my tasks,
For the days are short,
And the distractions are many,
For more time I ask.
For in the end as I grasp,
At the last stitch of time-space fabric,
I come to understand one thing,
That this fabric was rolled,
And stretched out just for me;
But in my haste and muttering,
It is regrettably the thing I failed to see.
So if I had all of the time in a day,
To do one thing,
Stop. Breathe. Listen. Sing.

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