Time is gentle;
for our gaping wounds,
we cry for it to push harder,
and we fear that it will let us bleed out;
But time is gentle,
and it meets our cries
with the caress of soft hushing,
until finally we fall asleep,
and it abandons us to our dreams,
where we toss and turn,
confined to burn inside a mind
that just might never learn,
no matter how many times it awakens.
Time is patient;
and when we need answers
for our urgent questions,
we beg for it to rush forward,
and we fear that we will never know;
But time is patient,
and it meets our pleas
with the promise that tomorrow will come,
but not before we fall asleep,
and it abandons us to our dreams,
where we scream and tear,
consigned to bear a mind
that just might never learn,
mistaken by the desire to awaken.
Time is gentle;
it would not hold us to its stream,
nor would it tell us how to dream;
Those who do not want to learn
can only yearn to find;
they'll curse the time that binds
them to the minds they spurn,
'til all their twine unwinds,
and all that's left resigns, in dream,
to trace misguided lines they left behind;
But those who seek to understand
the comfort of time's gentle hand
need only recognize, in dream,
that time has closed its eyes,
and while we sleep it lets us keep
the smiles we thought we'd never see again;
Time is patient;
it outlasts all our restless schemes,
and waits, with grace, through all our dreams;
And if it ever whispers,
to soothe a crying mind that seeks,
it surely tells the mind to find
a smile before it sleeps,
for every light that sparks a smile
can brighten up the darkest dreams,
and the smiles a mind holds through the night
are the only light it keeps.
Seth Richard Olsen
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