During the spring of our lives, the hourglass of time is turned the second we are born. The delicate grains slowly sift down and land at the bottom. We are inundated with years of first smiles, laughs and steps that we do not look over at the time piece keeping track of our lives. Someone whispers to appreciate those moments but we close our eyes and think about the years that lay ahead.
Summer slips in and we do not notice. Instead, we stand with our arms stretched wide allowing the suns exuberance to wash over us. The steady ticking of time is moving along but right now it is just the beat to the youthful song carrying us along. Another hand lays upon your shoulder and reminds you to once more look around. We smile and dance away because it is something we can put off until tomorrow.
Autumn breezes in gently and you almost do not realize it has arrived. One day your eyes look up from the path you are on and see the green leaves have changed to red and gold. The gold inspires thoughts of summer and a chilly breeze brings you back to the present. Words cover you briefly, like a warm blanket with the message that you should slow down. Instead your feet shuffling along faster because you feel if you pause then time will catch up to you.
The chill of winter swoops over and you look around wondering where the voice of reason, caution and advice has wandered. Your body has slowed down on it’s own no matter how your mind argues. You realize that many in your life have drifted away. When did this happen…your mind questions. Your eyes look past your own reflection and you notice the hour glass once more.
Your weak hands grab onto the timekeeper and with your last energy you try to turn it over. Tears slide down your face when you realize there is no way to stop the fragments falling to the final resting place. Your fingers follow each piece down the glass and you think you see something. Even with weak sight you can make all the images at the bottom. Each piece holds a memory or captured picture of your life. How did it all slip by so fast…..
time slips through our hands
grains are not meant to be caught
instead to be felt