Of Being Human

The near
silent quiet;
tick, tock, tick –
eternal,
internal clock;
hourglass,
where
the sand it
constantly runs
from head
to toe
and back,
and counts
the years
and lives lived,
and I can’t
remember,
how many
times now,
“have I been?”
and how
many times
“will I be
again?”
tick, tock, tick –
and so it goes;
this lesson –
of being human.

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