I know how a second feels.
It’s a mere apparatus; so mall,
But so valuable.
I know how a second feels;
Intertwined with minutes and hours;
Swallowed by the mess of time;
Spit up by the nausea of rejection.
I know how a second feels.
It’s forgotten; buried beneath
The importance of minutes, hours, and days.
One Mississippi, and it’s engulfed by
The tidal wave of time.
I know why a second comes and goes.
If it stays too long the world will be
Puzzled by its presence. It’s better off to just go.
I know how a second feels.
Terms like, “one second,” are thrown around
Like they don’t matter, and are only used to stall.
A second matters.
Sixty seconds and we arrive at the destination of
A minutes. These minutes weave their
Way through the maze of time to hand us over
To hours. These hours overflow into days, and these days
Spill into our riveting future.
But it all starts with a second, and no one has
The audacity to realize that.
I know how a second feels.