Time is your best friend when you
can no longer mend, or take back
what you want to say to a friend;
Listen to the rhythm of life around
you-when the wind blows through
the trees, and the leaves float
down by your knees;
Feel the sorrow and the strife and
what keeps it all together-you;
Without you growing up, you stay
in a cube, wondering when and
how soon-and time, well, time is
nothing to tell on, it takes you
to a place faraway;
You may come back again, if you
remain silent and learn-for every-
thing grown, was at a time, known-
to something that wasn't you;
Be important, not the potent in the
formula, that makes a greedier
sense of unkindness become
worship, like a muse with her music
laughing and playing-you are not
her, and you cannot be like her,
and I cannot tell you what to do
Either.
