Time Strand — Christian George
Time is a thread I cling to
And follow as it pulls me with its motion,
As if I’m observing life take place before me—
Apathetic in my intentions.
Memories fade after they’ve happened,
And I’m left trying to recount the number of times
I’ve said hello to someone
Whom I then forget
Before I’ve said goodbye to them.
Like trying to run up a hill but the sinks to the
And then I’m
Trying to chase broken strands of my past
Is like watching oil boil too hot
And catching flame in its pan.
I see what has engulfed me
In those towers of heat,
And I’m left with the fragmented pictures
Of blue and red wisps of a past life.