we always feel short of
time
this feeling that we have
not really done
enough
that something is left undone
that someone is left out
uncared
yet if we see how we simply
talked and talked and sit by the cafe
watching time pass us by
we could have realized how inconsistent
we have become
we all wasted time and then we tell ourselves
we lack time
as usual we do it
making fools out of our failures
and then justifying, 'well at least i am
happy. I always have time for myself.'
let time pass, we do not own it anyway.
it is meant to be with itself, so why bother?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is a thought provoking and amazing poem shared here really. Wise sharing is done here.10