Sliding Doors

August 27, 2008
By abigail paur, San Antonio, TX

Sliding doors.
Sifting sands.
Its contouring hands here to shape and reprimand
Driven by motives uncertain, unknown
I am born into hard-pressed motion
Like the moon compels the ocean
Side to side, left to right
Tossed low and high
All by the same tide
Hoping in an eminent dawn
But fearful of frostbitten nights too long
Slow down, speed up
But there’s no way to interrupt
It creeps up without proclaiming
Almost predictably, Time is gaining
Our shells slowly crumble away
Days sifted like chaff and wheat
Gradually fall to our feet
The unforgettable and lamentable
Each and every piece
Contentious winds rattle our fragile being; further exposing
Who can trust in time?
Watch as it chases away eager dreams
Once expectant thoughts bursting at the seams
And so it goes
Our countenance grows more faint
Blaming time as the culprit
We succumb to the comfortably numb
In backwards motion
From naive and innocent
To rigid and uncouth
Left regretting unspent youth
Seconds, minutes, and years disappear
As mirage like vapors deceivingly linger
You might as well come along side
As time is brought nigh
And instead of an enemy, choose to be allies
So prepare every step, every stride
As they lead us closer,
Decide to Be Wise

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