Borrowed Time Poem by Mario, Lucien, Rene Odekerken

Each moment is a gift I do not own,
a flame flickering in hands
too unsteady to keep it forever.

The clock does not ask for my permission,
its ticking is a quiet reminder
that nothing stays.

I walk through days
as though they are mine to keep,
but they slip through,
like sand,
like smoke.

What will I do with what I cannot hold?
How do I live knowing
it is all borrowed,
every breath, every sunrise,
every touch that lingers
and every goodbye that fades?

Perhaps it is not about holding on,
but about letting go-
letting each moment shape me,
even as it vanishes.