Gryphon Posted August 19, 2004 Report Posted August 19, 2004 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stand outside time and it can be seen as a grey whole. Humans break it and play with it, naming seconds, minutes, hours. They pretend to measure it into days, weeks, months. They use it to define the measure of their lives, years... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Standing where time has no meaning, Watching its currents flow, Through the grey mass of forever, I step back inside and I wonder, Where did my week go, As my eyes reflect the grey, Of another dawn.
Mynx Posted August 21, 2004 Report Posted August 21, 2004 (edited) Very nicely written. It captures the essance of realisation that the week has ended very well. The only difference between the realisation in the poem and my own is that at the moment I am praising the end of each week, not just wondering where it has gone Edited August 21, 2004 by Mynx
Valdar and Astralis Posted August 21, 2004 Report Posted August 21, 2004 Heavy thoughts for a morning. My first thoughts are usually-- "Bloody hell not again"
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