I am trying to let go of the tinge of sadness
When I catch a glimpse of the clock and notice
The time is passing ever by.
And, there’s no guarantee I’ll make it to the next
Minute, hour, day, week or year
I don’t fear,
That’s new
But, there’s still work left to do.

There’s still work left to do!

It’s not easy to manage it all
Every mission, every call
It slips by and I wonder
Each day toil, and night ponder
Am I spending my time the way that I should?
Have I managed to improve on what yesterday I could?

In a universe where no one point is found resting
Could my mind ever find a way to rest within it?
Or does the constant state of flux
Lend to my ever-expanding quest
For peace, for rest
Just, never to arrive?

Poetry

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