I Held Time in my Hand
I held time in my hand
and would not let it go.
My cold hands imprisoned
the golden force. I felt
its pleading call and witnessed
its fluttering heartbeat.
I tightened my fingers so
the blood escaped the extremity
of my swollen palm. Still,
Time struggled to free himself
still warm and lively.
His fallen tears gathered into
a small pool in my palm. Its
breath casted dark winds against
my flesh. But my hands would
not cease.
Exhaustion crept throughout
my arm and traveled to my body.
Time's tiny fists beat fiercely against
the chambers that withheld it.
The silence and space between
him and I deafened and stupefied me.
I held Time in my hand
and would not let it go.
Now, I write these few verses
with a shaky, surreal hand.
The strength and naivety that
once captured Time are defeated.
No longer can these hands capture.
I know this now.
I held Time in my hand.

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