lied to us
We don't have time on our hands,
only the lines made by its slipping through our grasp.
or on our side.
It moves to an unimaginable future
from an unredeemable past.
We can't save it, only spend it differently.
Time isn't short,
it's long as memory
isn't running out.
We have too much of it:
our doctors know
too much time kills all of us at last.
It’s about time
somebody did something
Revised in 2019.
© Godfrey Rust 2000, firstname.lastname@example.org. See here for permissions.