Don't tell me, 'you have all the time in the world'.
Don't tell me, 'you're still young, you have the rest of your life'.
Don't tell me, 'you have the rest of your life to make up for it'.
Don't tell me, 'you've got years ahead of you'.
Don't tell me that.
Not unless you know how long I've got to live.
Not unless you know if I've got a decade or even more.
Not unless you're sure I get to live till I can't count the grey pigments on my head.
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But you know, life gets funnier still.
In as much as we don't get to see into the future, you never really know if you have/had all time in the world until it's too late.
So here I am, contradicting my very own self.
I might tell you not to tell me about my life span on earth, unless you know how long I get to live.
But what's life without a risk or two and even more?
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C'est la vie?
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Life is rather contradictory.
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YOU ARE READING
'Silent' Clouds.
Poetry¶Words have no meaning, unless you make them, turning them into a spontaneous overflow of rhythm¶ ¶A string of broken pieces interwoven into into poetry. Broken symphonies, turned into poetry¶
