On Time

Time goes fast and slow.
It flies. It drags. It tells. It takes.
It never stops.

Its measures? Pressure.

The alarm, the clock, the countdown, the calendar.
The birthdays, the holidays, the seasons.
The happy new years, the dates, the five-year plans.
The beginnings, the goals, the graduations, the wrinkles, the ends.
The joys, the pains, the expiration dates. Our expiration dates.

Time’s a gift and a curse.
It’s wasted. It’s sacred. It’s money.
It never stops.

Its measures? Pressure.

We count the seconds, the minutes, the hours.
The days, the weeks, the moons, and months.
The seasons, the years, the decades.
The centuries, the eras, the past.
It all means nothing.
Stop counting — it goes on just the same.

Regardless of our last breath
Mindless of our regrets
It never stops.

Dismissive of our plans
Oblivious to our existence
It never stops.

©Mayra Gomes. All rights reserved.