Dear Time

Dear time,

Can you stop?

Understand I do not come here, or write this to make a shallow request, this is not some idle feeling that has overcome me in this moment,

You are the moment.

You are too fleeting.

It has come to my understanding, as we pass each other more and more, that I am growing older. I am taller, much lankier than the last time we saw each other.

It’s upsetting, and so are the creeping gray hairs within my father’s beard.

I fear time, that you are too fast, you defeat any perspective or appreciation on your own work. For every second I stop, you seem to already pass me. As the time I have grows thin, the moments I have for appreciation become less and less, until they will be but a moment, until they are gone.

And so, I would humbly plead

Stop.

With that, all I can picture is the endless sunset cresting over the hill within the gaze of my eyes, always within them, a moment to an eternity, my eyes always absorbing the fragile mysteries of the pale morning.