Time moves like wind across a plain,
unseen,but shifting everything.
It does not pause to ask permission,
nor turn to see what it leaves behind.

A moment is born,then swallowed.
Memories stretch,fade,
or return uninvited.

We chase it,
fear it,
waste it,
try to hold it,
but it only moves forward,
never folding back into itself.

And still,we measure our lives
by its quiet passing.