What is Time?

A Poem

Time. Always wishing we had more of it, But many times rushing it by, Excited for the weekend.

We don’t like Mondays. Why don’t we like Mondays? It is a day, It is time passing us by, Time we can use to do something meaningful. Instead, we rush it.

Why? Perception, that’s why. Perception that Monday’s are terrible, When really, it’s a day that should be treated as any other.

What is time?

Nothing but a mindset. It’s fast when we aren’t paying attention to it, It’s slow when we watch it pass.

Work weeks are slow because we want Friday to come. We rush to get to Friday, But then weekends fly by, and it’s already Sunday.

So we rush five days, and savor two, How does that make sense?

What is time?

It does not slow down for anyone, It does not speed up for anyone.

60 seconds, is the same as one minute, 60 minutes, is the same as one hour, 24 hours, is the same as one day.

Someone’s terribly slow hour, Is the same as someone else’s exhilarating, exciting hour. It’s all the same.

What is time?

What would our lives be without it?

Nothing to measure a minute or an hour, There would be no months or days of the week, We wouldn’t have birthdays or anniversaries, We wouldn’t have holidays, Because how would we track the days, without time?

We take it for granted, We rush it by.

What is time?

Time is invincible, because it can never be broken. A clock can stop, but time will not.

Time will always there for us.

Something to hold onto and look back on, But also to look forward to, A way to remember our best memories.

Time is so special, we must cherish it, Because it will never stop.

It’s ticking by as we speak, Tick tock.

We’re always running out of it. Another day has gone by, Another week passed, Another year over.

What is time?