WordsOut poems by Godfrey Rust  | collection Welcome To The Real World ← 33 of 59 → | home    

 

The Passage of Time

About time

They have lied to you
about time. 

We do not have
time on our hands,
only the scars
left by our grasping at its
unscalable cliffs. 

Time is not up
nor on our side.
It moves away from us
into the unknowable future
and the unredeemable past.

Time is not short.
It is long as memory.

Time is not money.
We cannot save time,
only spend it differently

and time is not running out.
We have too much of it.
Our doctors know that
too much time
kills us all at last.

Tomorrow always comes.
It’s about time
somebody did something
about time.