Days passing by.
Slowly but quickly.
The second hand races the hour hand.
Both win the day.
Time doesn't slow.
Everything else, ages and it shows.
Trees fall and buildings crumble.
What once stood strong will eventually fade.
Thoughts speed through the mind.
Beginnings and endings.
The physical world sits in place,
Spending most days,
Reflecting on relations of a more amiable persuasion,
Yet on this occasion,
Longing for a path devoid of such sloth.
Were there days that were great?
Another thing to contemplate.
Lost in the cacophony.
Seemingly...