I’m starting to realize

that every day we stare at the clock,

silently urging its hands to continue moving forward.

“Hurry up!” we think to ourselves.

(Always in a rush to do this or get there)

What is the valid definition of time?

It can’t be

Escaped,

Stretched,

Shortened,

or Ended

 by anyone.

A forever uncontrollable cycle.

It’s something that can either

Soar like an eagle above us until we lose sight

or crawl slowly on its hind legs like a black bear through the forest.

“Once upon a time,” begins your favorite fairy tale.

“Time heals all wounds,” they tell you.

“Stop wasting time!” yells your mother.

But when will we cease counting the moments

 and start living them?