To Whom it May Concern,

 

 

Thank you for taking your valuable time to read this.

 

I know your time is limited,

and that there never seems to be enough

to get everything done

To finish what was started.

 

It’s a funny thing, time.

We don’t seem to appreciate time enough;

It is a precious commodity

that not everybody has a lot of

Though some seem to have too much

And others waste what little they possess.

 

I know that time is futile to get back once it’s been lost

to the ever-growing expanses of the past,

where deadlines and limits no longer matter

because everything in the past

has already happened

Time can’t change the past,

only guide the future

 

Now and then, time decides to slacken

Like when the clock refuses to tick

and minutes seem like hours

and an hour seems like eternity

 

Sometimes we just can’t figure out where the time went.

 

Time exists only to show how little we have.

If our time was infinite,

we probably wouldn’t even notice.

Nobody would be in a hurry

Nobody would wait anxiously for something to happen

Nobody would lose patience

For there would be all the time in the world.

But we would likely grow complacent.

 

Alas, I know that time is fleeting, finite,

so I thank you again for giving some of yours.

 

 

Signed,

One Who Writes, from Time to Time