Reckoned to be running out, humanity
Keeps chasing Time, follows carefully
Time's demands, obeying insanity's
Frenetic rush. Folk run, hardly aware
Of sands - sink, and dashing stick blindly.
Present ignored, they strive for the future,
Or past, yet being sucked down, always found
With perplexities, no joy, demuring
From race for a moment, just flounder,
Sinking still more. Time's needs are not kindly.
We miss contentment if clutching no peace
We heedless rush on, no standing to stare.
Goals from a sandpit will never be reached,
Scurrying quicker will not get us there.
Time which is Now is the only benignly.
If we fail to admit the present wonder of such,
The Now, which is timeless, yields us not much.
Fay Slimm
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sands-of-time-15/
