Time: A Gift

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Time:  A Gift

Cynical was I when I became aware of the passing years...
It clocked me that father time was nothing more than a villain and a thief.
Stealing everything precious and dear to me.
Until clarity struck and I realized him nothing more than trickster,
A scamp meticulously spreading his riddle.
The contradiction.  The irony.
A conspiracy of the gods.

Always giving before he takes.
Every moment he doles being precious and rare weather a minute,
A second or an hour is adding to the collective years we endure;
Existence is a treasured gift he calls the present.
How liberating that moment was...
The clarity crystallized as I clearly understood that the only things worth doing are the things we do for others.

Relish in his treasure while it lasts for the wonder it creates;
What we spend together is all that matters.
Time is many things, but he is not money nor power and especially not our enemy, a villain, or thief.
Just the string connecting the series of precious moments into a continuity known as our life.

Spend generously your gift of life on the ones you hold dear.
For the only way to beat this riddler is by doing deeds, which be worthy of the ones we cherish...

Nicks Journal Time A Gift

 

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