"It"

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Run! Hurry!
It is slipping away as you stand there;
Slowly, but steadily moving out of reach, to be forever gone
What is it?
You ponder this question for a split second.
It doesn’t matter what does is the urge, the need.
You have to grab it, whatever “it” is.
You are chasing it, yearning for it, you have to possess it.
In your frenzy, faces and places swirl around you.
They are your memories, fragments of the past.
Brushing them off, you push forward towards your prize.
Many years later, you catch up with it.
You reach to grab, grasping nothing but air.
Frustrated you try again and again.
The fruit of your running is…nothing.
Turning around you see your memories replaying:
Taunting you, mocking you, laughing at you,
Because you chose to chase “it” instead of living life.
Wanting to have a do over, you pray for another chance,
To go back and try again.
But you can’t,
For you are dead.
Run! Hurry! It is going to get away…





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