THE HANDS OF TIME

Looking down I notice my hands

Mirrored in them, an hourglass’s spilled sand

I see the evidence of exposure to the sun

I see little folds where there once were none

 

I turn them over and consider the look

Weathered skin, from life it took

Fingertips’ feeling its toughened skin

Testimonial grooves into palms running

 

Strangely they don’t appear to be mine

Evolution deformed them over time

Confused by a spirit feeling so young

Realization; the hands of time, won’t be undone

 

I wrote this poem one day when I looked at my hands, and they seemed different. As different from the consciousness that I had to deal with. Life happened, life has ripened me and I realized; in the hands of time, we are but a mere spec of sand in the hourglass.

 

So, tonight as I sat with my babies, which are adults by now, I had this to say:

• Your time is limited.
• Take mental snapshots of the good and the bad.
• Put away your phone.
• Live in the present.
• Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
• You have only so much time, live each second of it.
• Appreciate each second of it.
• Write stories, your own unique life stories.
• And appreciate your unique story, even if you wished it to be different.
• Your story is special.
• Don’t wish time away, just to get to the next stage of life; you will never get this moment back.
• Be grateful and patient.
• Life is beautiful, with its dragons and all.
• No story can be interesting without a touch of drama.
• And you can only be grateful for the good if you have experienced the bad.

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