Lost Time

Why do we waste and lose the time we have?
What is the cost of all the time we’ve lost?
We pass the time and fill the time, and fail
To see it growing as a fractal frost.

We fear the flow of time, sublime in all
Its grand decay. We’re horrified we die
And turn our eyes away from all decline
And pine and cry, are horrified, and try

To falsify our lives, all to escape,
Deny, defy our certain, defined fate.
The grind of time reminds us that the vine
Of life will twine itself to our death gate.

Defiling time has been denied, maligned
Defied by poets hating rhythm, rhyme
Reminding them of what such lines enshrine:
The nullifying paradigm of time.

And yet, Proust searched for it, though we all know
That we cannot recover time. So why
Would we want to remember things that passed
And thus thereby supply what we’d deny?

Do we yet recognize that time’s a prize
Among the filler and the endless din
That makes and grows, complexifies the world
And to reject that beauty is a sin?

Yet time does beautify, makes more complex,
Diversifies the world. The endless strife
That’s driving time, is what designed, refined,
And intertwined to create mind and life.

Thus time does not just ossify, thereby
Solidifying into crystal death –
We are obliged to recognize the light
It brings to life, the certifying breath.