The One-Hundredth Post

And like that, the day is gone,

living back there, in the ancient past.

These days fly by like

flocks of gulls

racing

to the low tide’s buffet.

And here I stand, now in this day,

not ready to let the day go;

this heart of mine,

contemplative,

introspective.

Our world leaves no room for my heart.

It is crowded out

by the movement of

time

and money.

Changing hands all day long.

In the middle of the market bustle

I shout a top my lungs

to stop!

to breath!

to remember!

The feet hustle past.

The eyes squint and glare.

How dare you try to slow down these days that we might have to remember.

How dare you…

I simply hope for more

than the end of the

day rushing

upon

us.

Not sleep.

But rest.