With their one life squeezed
between their hands,
stretched, until it might break.
They agonize not to lose that
which was forever only temporary.
The agony of living in
such a short pause
between all the endless time
when we were not.
It comes and it goes,
and it begins and it ends.
We are just leaves in a wind
that carries our DNA through
the unrolling of time.
It is cruel that we have names and memories
when we were only born to be
the vehicle to carry
what lies behind us
into what lies before us.
Squeeze these moments then,
my friend, regardless.
And feel the blood and flesh that speak
to you of your time.
Gallagher
21May2016
Christchurch