Fighting Against Time
An original poem
Time is the ultimate villain.
You can’t impede time from marching forward or turn back time from its predestined course. This is the order of things since the universe began. You are caught in the flow of time like a swimmer caught in a rip tide. You are violently carried away from shore until your body finally succumbs and sinks beneath the turbulent waters.
My latest poem ponders how time marches us from birth to death without remorse.
Time is killing me softly. Chipping away at me with the precision of water raging over once-jagged stones. It really is so gradual. A wrinkle here. A gray hair there. Stiff joints everywhere. Nothing dramatic need apply. I awake each morning a step slower. I run each day a breath shorter. My minutes and hours multiply without needing a calculator. The prime years of my life have turned to history texts for other travelers further down the same trail. My memories run together, mixing and churning, blending together to form an unidentifiable goo. Time is killing me softly and there's nothing I can do.
