Time’s Grip on Me

Pace pace, pace, the busyness of life,
at least birds get a break.

Broken point of no return,
waves crashing in from sea.

Do I feel the burden of weight,
feel the stinging of time’s proximity.

Push forward, push backwards,
depends on the direction of the wind.

Stuffed, suffocated grips of strong hands,
feeling the weight of the bricks
being laid in front of me.

Hurry hurry hurry down the yellow brick road,
only to find the wizard was a phony.

Slow down wins come and go,
natural beauty with a son’s delight.
I feel the passing of the dawns,
crooked smiles in the mist.

Find the clock has slowed down