Time

Time is not on my side. Isn't that the opposite of what the Stones put forward that embraced
that awful truth.
To realize that one day there will be nothing left of time but our tired and worn out bodies.
A butterfly...in it's finite being only has so much of this limited allotment.
She flies around the yard creating beauty just by being. It doesn't wait for the opportune moment to parade it's wings around the courtyard. It doesn't wait for silence to say "This...this is my time to come out of the bush." She just flutters freely. The same goes for my words.It is when time is limited that words come to me. When I have no pen or paper to capture them. I need a mental net to trap them in one place until I can scribble my ideas and conceal them in one beautiful glass jar.