I find myself looking up at the skies’
pearlescent cotton ball clouds waltzing slow and steady, lazing along riding wind currents. Birds are snaking through cloud-capes twirling around. Free, with no concept of time. But do they know deep down in their bird brains that every second of life beautiful life, love, nature, all of it are temporary things that surround us in our lives, but not in our deaths. We have so little time to live, no time to think about what comes next. The timer ticks…ticks away every day. What can I do before I run out of time? What can I-- Madisen Bellon is a poet and fiction writer. She is the founder and Editor in Chief for Cosmic Daffodil Journal. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, birdwatching, and playing video games. Comments are closed.
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