Up Until Now, The Story of My Life Has Always Been, “There Is Never Enough Time.”
by m
There is never enough time for all the things there is never enough time for…
But there is always time for all the people I have ever loved, lusted after, lorded over, or just envied.
Somehow there is never enough time to reach the pinnacle of perfection I aspire to, I crave, I cry for…
But there is always enough time to get it done, to make it “good enough.” Good enough for what? For Who?
Always, there is never enough time for the “important things,” but are not things made important by the amount of time we spend on them?
Or is it the quality of time we spend with them, in communion? in praise? In thanks? In gratitude.
And Since, there is Never Enough Time to finish this poem…
