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We waste it. Spend it. Count it. Conserve it and hoard it. We pray for it to pass, long for it when it’s gone, and wonder where it flees in the moments between.
We grasp for memories within it, reminisce over roles we once played in it, and hold those we’ve loved within snapshots of it.
We kick, scream, and rage against its fierce ravages with blind and fruitless hope that we may stop it.
Yet as we glance over our shoulders to watch the pack, time makes a run for the fences. We already know its final destination.
And while we don’t know what it feels like to hold it in our hands, we know its price. And grieve when it’s gone.
Kick, scream, and rage against it. Curse its unrelenting speed and bless its precious gifts.
Live within it. And make it miss you when you’re gone.
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