Time runs its course impassively, blasé and cavalier
Unfeelingly extinguishing the soul of every year
This gleam of youth I relish will undoubtedly be cast
To the impenetrable, unreachable entity that is the past
Every morning seems an elegy for yesterday’s decease
Each dawn a plea the previous may somehow find its peace
For every precious hour is an hour long, at best
Yet every hour I’ve lived so far was too soon laid to rest
I yearn for moments whose durations are not imposed by time
Whose presence is indefinite, like some eternal paradigm
I cannot find appeasement, my mind will not find calm
Until time's letter of resignation resides snugly in my palm
--Katlyn T., 16
