The passage of time,
Depends on age.
A minute seems an eternity,
For one so young and pure.
An eternity appears as a minute,
For the old and wizened.
Time does waver,
It shimmers and passes.
All too quickly for some,
And for others, like molasses.
The sands of time,
Trickle down,
Always, and never ceasing.
We perceive this force,
And allow ourselves to count it.
Yet we control not,
The passage of time.
Our perceptions may alter awareness,
But the increments are eternally equal.
Being young lets us ease through time,
But as we age we slide through it.
Years become but mere blinks of the eye,
And hours, a fleeting twitch.
Before we realize this,
Our time is gone.
As the young waste this precious resource,
The old pine for more.
How can time seem so slow?
Or so fast?
When it always seems to be,
Steadily ticking past.
~Zoo
