Nights spilled into days
And the days would slosh,
Quick and messy against each other
My thoughts, helplessly dispersed among them
The bits of the shipwreck left of my consciousness
Floating aimlessly out at sea
*
And there is a creeping panic within me
Often skimming along my spine
With cold fingers of dread
The menacing prospect of stagnation
And the possibility of failure
*
Time keeps its ledger in rigid order
Clean brief strokes of precious seconds
Never to be recalled
Each second, a grain of heavy sand
Building upon the others,
A castle of my life,
Of my past, my decisions
Of my actions, my inactions
Of my hesitant existence
*
Whether in the end, that it may crumble
Only to be washed away, like the many turrets had,
Or that it may tower over my mistakes,
Depends on how I spend and place
The grains of sand
That I now hold loosely
In my hands
© Devina S.
