What is time?
A blessing or a curse,
Is time limited, or is it just an illusion?
No one knows how much time they have,
For me, time is simply
The space between our birth and our death.
At some point, it will end,
But until then, we must embrace the time we have
And make the most of it,
For with time come beautiful memories.
And even if time eventually runs out,
The days we've spent will linger forever
In the minds of those with whom we shared our time.
Time is treacherous but also our friend,
It's something inexplicable that piques our curiosity.
Time means different things to different people,
Some lament the time taken from them,
While others are grateful for the time given to them.
There are those who mourn not having enough time,
And there are those, like me, who don't care about the time they have,
And who only think about the present.
In my opinion, if we're constantly worried
About the time we have,
Life will pass us by,
And we'll realize that we didn't truly live.
YOU ARE READING
illusions
Poetry"This is where I write down my thoughts and ideas about various topics that pique people's curiosity."
