The way of Tme

How time is such a painful part of our lives.                                                            
It still seems like yesterday, oh how you were ready to make your own way.                    
Then on that day, you sat there with a loss of your drive.                                        
You’re nothing like you were back when we used to spend time at the bay.

We we’re much younger then, I mind.                                                                     
You more ignorant, yet you were more brass at that.                                              
We ran across the beach to sailors who were so very kind.                                         
Then ran back to the dock where we sat, away from that one rat.

He was always there, just watching the world with little care.                                   
Never needing a plan, never having an agenda, he was just there.                              
Some looked at it with disgust, while others gave him food they could spare.          
It would stay for a few minutes before returning to its lair.

Afterwards if I recall correct, we ran across the pier to the near field.                    
You told me that it was here, where you felt most at peace.                                    
There we remained for a while, letting the day be revealed.                                            
It was in that particular moment where all speech seemed to cease.

Like a piece of art within a museum that moment of silence will forever be.           
Untouched, unchanged, indifferent than the moment of its creation.                               
It’s moment that had meaning to us, to others a simple tree.                                     
It was something sacred that day, it need not change a nation.

It’s the fondest moment I have of you my old friend.                                              
Something that, unlike us, shall never end.

I wish, we could see each other now.                                                                     
I wish, we could return to the bay.                                                              
I wish, we could see that old rat take a bow.                                          
I wish, we could have, once more that day.

But I know now, that we cannot have the past again.                                            

I know now, how the world works in devilish ways.                                                  
I know now, how life see’s us as little grains.                                                           
I know now, how at the end, all those moments can pay.

I know now, yet it still doesn’t free me from my misery.

We were the closest of friends, and I wish time didn’t cause such pain.                   
Yet, we’re human and nothing between us is the same.                                          
Sometimes, these poor differences become our very bane.                                         
Like the difference of mere days, can help push a reaper’s claim.

I sit now upon that very field, and once more take a moment to hear.                     
No voices buzzing in my ears, no wind to press against my skin.                            
No bugs crawling beneath me, my mind frozen here with no thoughts to seer.           

I count three more beats, get to my feet, and take off with a spin.

With no plan to return, I march away, taken only the memories from this frame.        
I know now, that there’s no reason now for me ache.

Because simply put there is no one left to blame, nor be blamed.                              

It was simply the work of time, shaking those from the tree of life, then clearing them away 
with a rake.

It all so clear now.
That there is nothing here for me to hate.

Nor anything left for me to blame.