Time holds on to us all.
It pushes, pulls, drags us kicking
And screaming through the torrent of
Its passing. We either follow, docile as
A domesticated animal, living only to accept
What is given, or we stand in the midst of the
Stream. We are the briefest flash of light in
The sky, known only from the afterimage
Imprinted on the collective retina. Some are
Dull, leaving only the briefest realization.
But the few, the precious few who flash like
A diamond in the sky, leave their mark
On our minds, our hearts, and our souls.
