The Hourglass by Gianna Seaver

I’m starting to realize
that every day we stare at the clock,
silently urging its hands to continue moving forward.
“Hurry up!” we think to ourselves.
(Always in a rush to do this or get there)
What is the valid definition of time?
It can’t be
or Ended
 by anyone.
A forever uncontrollable cycle.
It’s something that can either
Soar like an eagle above us until we lose sight
or crawl slowly on its hind legs like a black bear through the forest.
“Once upon a time,” begins your favorite fairy tale.
“Time heals all wounds,” they tell you.
“Stop wasting time!” yells your mother.
But when will we cease counting the moments
 and start living them?

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