Time

Does time exist for those too omnipotent for mortal eyes?
Is it tangible, fallible, or even conscious of it's own existence?
Why, then, do the silky and lustful tendrils of time
Even now pull at the half-forgotten recesses of my heart and mind?

Does time feel?
Is it aware of the suffering it inflicts on my soul in your presence?
Bending, stretching, and warping my being as time hasit's dark mischief?
has time stopped, or has it truly even started?

Much like a wild flower, our lives twist and tangle as we struggle for a greater purpose in this world.
And indeed much like a wild flower, our essence and rarity are only captured for a heart beat before fading into obscure and perverse nothing.

My realization is this:
you are time. you are my everything and nothing.
you are my life source and final breath.
And my only hope is that is in the space of eternity, you will hesitate only for the most fleeting of moments to gaze upon me and bask in the futile love I offer.

-By Micah Cole
Age 16