Yours

I am yours
not as something kept or claimed,
not bound by hands or marked by name,
but as the stars belong to sky,
still burning bright, still passing by
never asking where to lie.

The way the moon belongs to tides,
never touching what it guides,
pulling oceans in their sleep
undeniable force that needn’t speak.

How morn belongs to birds that sing
in early light on fragile ...

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I used to think time was something chasing me.
Lately, I’m learning it may simply be asking me to stay.

—
Invited By Time

The clock is not a warning.

It is a witness.

Every second,
a quiet record
of who I am learning to be.

It does not rush me.

It does not ask
for more than I can give.

It simply continues.

Steady.
Unconcerned
with whether I keep up.

There was a ti...

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