Babble From a Stranger

The Minute

Wasted, daily I am taken for granted.

I pass by so quickly, and

am wished to rush swiftly by;

But if you lived my life, you'd think

Differently of your time.

Sixty-Seconds, no more but still no less,

I am born, bedded, and yet

reborn again sequentially every day.

I am mourned, as I proceed on my journey;

I myself choose to live each moment,

expanded to its brim capacity.

I may occasionally mark endings in the saddest of hours,

But I, majority more,

mark life and its million smiles.

I tick, yes, from time to time,

but my movement allows you what I wish I –

I, in this moment, am yet again reincarnated, restarting

To build the story I never tire of seeing despite the facts of its nature, constantly fleeting.

Will you choose to taste beauty within

The excellence of my moments?

Do I live in vain if you truly cannot see,

Me this time, untraceable, irreplaceable?

When my tie with a soul, comes

Like a road with no more guided lines,

I never fail to hear that they regret how they spent my lives.