I have not lived yet, but I'm not dead.
Still breathing, and blinking, and eating and drinking, still need warmth, comfort.
Still alive enough to feel lonely,
Still being.
And even though the time runs out,
even though the bells ring out the hours relentlessly, even though the sun keeps setting,
the fact that I'm still being
gives me hope that maybe
one day I'll see that setting sun
from a different side of the world,
maybe I'll ring those bells myself,
and one day I won't care about the time
cause I'll be too busy living.
SK
