Chance = Change

The rush of Time, moments' flow,
A river, yes, but more a flood
Of swelling, swarming instants, alive
With all we know and all we've no idea
Occurred.
It is gone before we had the chance to taste it.
We seem content
To join the tide and thereby
Waste it.

The shore of recognition sweeps behind, beyond us,
As we wave goodbye to that person
We have not spent the time to see.
It could be you.
It's probably me.
We are the same, brothers under the skin,
Each and every ,
A victim of speed.
It's breath we need.
Breath and time.
And we waste both,
Because someone, somewhere, told us
This was a fast dance.

Why don't we do a slow one next?
And sweat in each others' embrace
While we circle arms around waiting necks
And grind life to an expectant, delicious halt?

Stop it with the wave of a red flag.