I think we all wish we had more time. I find it frustrating that some of the minutiae of modern life seem designed to get in the way of focussing on your dreams and goals. It would be amazing if I could just sit down and write all day. But apart from work there are so many little things that take up time, household chores, paying bills and the biggest killer of all, social media.
I think the answer to the question is that granted we would all like more time to be alive (although none of us know how long we will get). But the utilisation of the time we have day to day is a common regret. We feel we waste time on meaningless tasks, relationships that were never going to work, jobs that don’t fulfil our sense of purpose and worth. We exist in a constant, and sometimes it feels like we don’t have much control over this. Taking the time to re-evaluate our goals and the things we find important on a regular basis allows us to catch ourselves in the moments of procrastination or inactivity and challenge ourselves to do better. If your time ran out tomorrow, would you feel you had made the most of it?
Well that went a bit deep for a Wednesday morning didn’t it! Here’s a little palate cleanser of a poem about a relationship with time, if it makes you laugh, drop me a like or comment, always nice to hear from readers!
Analogue IV
Just a second I’d said to my darling,
Take as much as you wish she replied,
But I wait for no man, she adds with a grin,
As her hands swish from side to side
She wants more from our time together,
Seems to her that I take and don’t give,
Her grandfather said the same thing to her
And it’s not a good way to live
I explained that the tocks weren’t a problem,
And it wasn’t her fault to be fair,
But she was driving me to distraction,
With her ticks that I just couldn’t bear
At least I’m not two faced like you she replied,
So I paused and I counted to ten,
Silence between us, the cogs start to turn,
Seems I’m winding her up again
My issue she gently concluded,
Was my head had been turned around,
By those digital chicks, who don’t suffer from ticks
Power mad without making a sound
She tried not to be too alarmist,
but the beeps that they make really grated,
And their plastic and buttons and wires made her ill
I said true, but at least they aren’t dated
But they make you so late in the morning she says
It’s a fact that I cannot refuse,
You can trust me to get you up right on time,
I won’t give you the option to snooze
You’re behind the times dear I protested,
Second hand goods if you will,
And as for your roman numerals,
Well – I’ve pretty much had my fill
Well, if that’s how you feel then we’re finished,
She chimes in, and we went our own ways,
Now I’ve lost all conception of minutes or hours
I do well to remember the days
I while away moments in silence
My alarm clock provides no rapport,
She just flashes at me from the corner
And I wish things were just as before
Take heed of my error of judgement
And that life passes by for all men
She won’t give me the time of day anymore
And I doubt I will see her again
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