If there is time enough for this and that,
for endless hours to deconstruct ennui
and countless minutes lost in might have been,
then surely there is room for something more.
The clock’s always correct just once a day.
It never moves or gives itself away,
but blithely watches on as we digress,
or find another way to sit and spin.
But we are no mere aspic holding on
to minuscule and tasteless bits of life.
Our grip can only wrestle with our grasp,
and neither proves adhesive in the end.
What else would you have time enough to try?
The busyness of spectacle consumes
so much of what could be but never is,
and leaves us much more lonely than alone.
If there is time to waste, why make much more?
There isn’t any race left us to run.
We hear eternal echoes but have learned to hate our ears.
There’s always time enough to try again.
06 Aug 2025
© 2025, John Litzenberg. All rights reserved.
Leave a Comment