Like Sands Through the Hourglass

So are the Days of Our Lives..

Why is it that as we grow older,

time seems to elude us?

Why are we only able to cling to fond memories of the past,

rather than revel in the here and now?

Why does the here and now,

slip so quickly into the then and there?

It's around now,

somewhere in the scuttling suspense of midyears,

that I've begun noticing the markers of time past.

Yesterday,

I visited Melb Uni.

I made serious observations

concerning my future.

I then, proceeded to discuss my "life plan" with friends.

Today, I made a chatterbox.

And revisited, once again that childhood game of making lists of boys, modes of transport, accommodation, occupations and children, then proceeding to pick a random number and cross the out until you have one of each left.

I then, arrived home and flicked through reminiscent photo albums,

of the paper book and facebook nature.

Now compare.

The former is the imminent,

an urgent and frequent reminder of where we're heading.

The latter, remind us of the "good times",

with fun to be had.

But back then,

maybe they weren't so great.

They were just like the present.

Sporadic, turbulent, unstable.

Vivacity at is greatest.

(see what i did there? :P s-t-u-v)

I'll probably look back at this,

and contemplate my youth, amused.

Maybe that's all life is,

a documentary of moments.

Maybe we're just someone else's television show.

And just maybe, its set on record,

so that we can replay it over and over at the end.

We people are just poems

- Ani DiFranco