The ticking of life
And that to find
That of which is chosen
A time is born,
One that supports the need of every living thing,
As we learn
We also choose,
That, which may not have been chosen,
We find that as we fail,
I have learned,
I may not be the best of the best,
But, surely, I am still a hawk,
Finding its flight.
I know that when the time comes I will…
I will find what’s best for me,
I know I will.
But yet as my fire dims
I am still out casted as a chicken,
One flightless bird.
But I still drudge on,
Finding my way as a wayfarer, a lonely person,
I can’t help it….
I remember when I had some ultimate destiny
But that is now gone,
As I look for destiny anew.
I know that as I learn, to what I’m unsure
Although I want to
I cannot say. Perhaps a fate which I cannot speak of,
But I will know as the time comes.
Life is but a dream,
As the nursery rhyme chimes.
I don’t know what it means
But I do know that as my peers go on
I am left.
The world with its life
It keeps ticking like time.
I have to find my time
And choose where to tick.
But I do know it’s absolutely not now,
I do feel a ticking inside me,
Faint and low,
But as I chase it… it goes.
I now must draw to a stop as my feelings become corrupted
Corrupted with logic.
They cannot mix
So as time keeps ticking I must continue
But I also must cease that of the ticking.
For if I am to find that of which God haschosen,
I must cease that of which life has,
That annoying ticking,
If time travel was possible,
Or if you could slow time’
Only if it was to find what I must do
To live life to its fullest
But alas, I can’t
So I drudge on and find it alone.
As it is my journey
And my journey,
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