Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Time

Time, Time, Why rushest thou by?
Thou speedest on and on;
And as I stand here,
My outstretched arms would grasp and hold thee close.

Each moment Thou stealest from me
Is more precious that the last.
Each one is touched with sorrow, pain, joy, or gladness--
Tinted by my own actions, my life.
Therefore, these moments are mine!
How canst Thou steal them from me? Thief!

And as I ponder o'er my grief,
The thought of a moment creeps along my brow.
Are these fleeting particles of eternity mine to hold?
Oh, where is the sign of warranty that
they may be held by man?

Is there a chance that these seconds are loaned--
not sold?
Loaned to the worker, the soldier, the drone--
Each to fulfill, to dream or postpone.
Oh, bold was I to claim heirship to such as these!

Ah yes! What riches are lent me.
Time--what a treasure!
Time to work, to chat, to sing;
Time to think, to love, to dream.

Time is mine to make tomorrow more precious still.
I thank Thee, my Father, for Thy kindness,
For these minutes which I share.
Grant me strength, courage, originality to touch each one;
That it may return to Thee more precious yet
For having been loaned to me.

[penned by my father decades ago]

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