I Follow or Fall

Time marches past me, like a regiment of soldiers.

Each guard, lifts high their knees of control.

They don’t look back.

They have a curtain of ease in their attention.

In their file and rank - one by one.

                    It’s not lost on me.

This drill of right step, left step.

It’s familiar, in an uncomfortable way.

My guilty heart feels my attempts to stall time.

It knows.  It beats, too, to the march.

“Make it stop,” it coaxes me, “so we can rest.”

I can only stare at the steadfast power of time.

My will isn’t enough.

The rhythm of my body coincides naturally to the flow of time.

I follow or fall.

Only death halts time. 

It’s our last contract with life.

It reminds me of the treasure of time.

Each precious grain of sand,

as it gently passes through the small opening

in the hourglass.