Clocks

he hands of Time seem at rest,

but with a simple, steady beat they move

toward an eternity unknown

to the world.

 

Between each tick and tock,

a voice knocks inside.

“I am not eternal,” it says.

“To all things there is an end.”

 

 

                                Without a second glance,

                                 the most  minute moments  go unnoticed, taken for granted.

  Too often life’s travelers, unaware that the hour of fate is now,

            allow days,

                       weeks,

                       months,

                and years to slip past in a blur

of what was                                                                                                                    or what might have been.

 

 

The past, the present, and the future

are fleeting, so use them well.

And ever live your life

to seize the day.

 

In the end,

it’s a choice we make

for our own journey’s way:

to love, to laugh, to remember, to reach out

 

We never live in the same second twice.

So make a change, make a stand

while you can. There is no time

to lose.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
My community
My country
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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