What Time Is It?

What time is it? I ask myself so many times each day-
But this does nothing for the thrill of living my own way.
It keeps me locked inside a gate-I cannot turn the key.
I want to walk on through, but I cannot see what's to be.
The more I try to know what's lying up ahead,
The less I feel alive inside-the fear fills me with dread.
What will it take to turn the key with grace and faith and trust?
An iron will, an open heart, a mind that says, "I must."
I then cam toss the old ticking clock and listen carefully
to my highest self who knows me well and says,"It's time to be."

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem