Time by Sarah Koshiol
It may seem to fly by,
slow, or stand still;
but who can stop it’s hands?
Some say it is their enemy.
Some say it’s on their side.
We call it money.
We call it a thief.
In our loss, we feel robbed of it.
We kill it.
It changes people. It changes everything.
We ask what it is. Only it will tell.
You can use it up,
You can run it out;
but you can’t run from it.
We need it.
We make it. We waste it.
We spend it. We save it. We lose track of it.
We want more of it.
What are you doing with yours?
“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.”
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