Time

Time is passing faster than I ever imagined.
As I am finally understanding who I think I am--
Another year is gone.
Things I thought I just figured out,
Already happened so long ago.
Age is such a strange intangible thing.
Why don't we consider time an asset
When we've got a lot of it under our belt?
But all of us look for ways to maximize and extend
the time that we havent' yet invested?
In fact it isn't even ours yet.
And may well never be.
What is a moment, if it's spent planning for the next one?
Have I truly lived it if my mind wasn't there?
And the calendar pages keep turning.
The seasons come and go.
But inside is another kind of indicator
My time is kept by things that can't be measured
Not with hands upon a clock
Events that happened 'yesterday'
Even though it's been ten years.
The steps I've taken to love and be loved.
The changes marked by tears.
My heart is grooved by loss, love and gain
Like rings upon a tree
Some are wide and some are dark
But none represent just one year
These lines are all still living in me
Some still changing as I speak.
They make up who I really am
And what truly matters to me.