Slips

Another day slipped by while I was out. Another one I couldn't hold on to, another day that just runs into the past, a day closer to the future without my consent. They fly away like the red wind and all that is left is the few falling drops of sparkle of the day in twilight as I stare out from my window, wishing I was on top of the green hills, close to the hunting moon and my soul set free. My list of things to do remain unattended, or unfinished, the moments un-lived, unloved and unremembered, unmemorable.

The partial sides of me that don't amount to much hen looking for consensus, but pull me in all directions, torment my heart until the early hours of the dawn. It seeks to fly, it seeks to set it's roots and lay down to a stone walled home with stained glasses and ivy of red and green covering it's side walls like those pictures I find on the internet.

Regardless of it all, the days slips up, out of my fingertips. It's unapologetic--it doesn't care, it's not patient and it won't wait. Time just goes on on this senseless journey in which we divide it up to seconds, minutes, hours, days and weeks followed by months and finally ending in years. Needless to say time accumulates in one direction for us. Years eventually become decades, centuries, millenniums and so on and so forth. People die, others in turn replace them with their own memories, etching their own ideals and values in their golden ages, constantly, one generation after another--even if we don't leave an heir or an heiress behind.

So invisibly we pass through the walls of time, as the sun slips out of our fingertips, sparkles just shine for a brief moment in twilight and we just can't etch our own legacies on this earth nor time.