Hands Of Time

Who am I to say? I have a letter made of steel. I rap underneath the table. But I can spin a rhyme just like a wheel.

Sitting here wondering– Tomorrow literally. I wish yesterday never happened, but yet, I’m stuck here permanently.

I have all these regrets, but the longings go much farther. I sit on the edge of tomorrow, and wonder why try harder?

I ask these questions genuinely but in a pensive state. The reasons why I ask is it all left up to fate?

The more I try, the harder it seems– like a salmon swimming upstream– not in its natural state, but in a wandering scheme.

And so I just let go– Let nature take its course. Release the hands of time. Flow energy back to source–

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