Sand1 min 177 1 min 177
How could I even begin to count the things that have slipped through my fingers,
Words, phrases, thoughts, the catching of breath and the pause.
How could I measure the moments of time that could have changed every yesterday?
And the tomorrows and goodbyes and every last hello.
How could I wonder about the things that have passed before my eyes?
Clouded with tears or rage, the fingers gripping my gilded cage.
How could I ever come to terms with the distance between what I dreamed
And what I have achieved. The limitless sky was only an allusion of city lights.
How can I fathom the courage it takes to love like I once did so freely?
No fear of the edge that I toe or the drop to the bottom that could end it all.
No ticking of clocks or pouring of sand. No amount of pondering or brooding
Can soothe the tides of time and they push and pull with or without our musing
But I still wonder how I could even begin to count the things that have slipped through my fingers.