I found leftover traces of hearts on my paper-

Did you leave them behind?

Or am I just weaving excuses to make up that lost time?

The willow beside me hasn’t stopped weeping.

Does she weep because she has no rest with her branches and leaves still hanging in the air?

When she reached the ground, will her tears still fall?

The ground is no more tangible than the heaviness of the air and wind around her.

I guess she’ll be left disappointed with the rest of us.

Time is just a concept we created to make sense of our experiences.

So does that mean you never were or you always have been?

Because at one point, you didn’t swim in these oceans.

But you made it to the shoreline in this small town, got our attention, and then moved on.

You weren’t, you were, and then you used to be.

I sit here now, conversating with this willow tree,

Trying to make sense of what the wise meant when they said, “Only time will tell.”

Time isn’t saying anything!

Time itself doesn’t relieve doubts, and it doesn’t hand us any clear answers.

Time is just a pair of plastic red lips we stick on our imaginary friends to relieve our pain.

But… answers don’t come clearly without passing time, either.

I guess I’ll just move this branch of you aside until the passing time allows you to reach the ground.

You haven’t actually changed, but you’ll be in a different setting.

I am defeated, but I have won.

I don’t know a thing, but I have learned so much.

All that I am now takes rest underneath this tree;

Acknowledging that ‘time’ won’t allow me to be here forever,

But I will be.