Gaining Speed

Tumbling, spinning, runaway life.

Even sitting still, it gains speed. Rushing past in blurred days.

Never pausing, always forward, burning my days, despite attempts at slowing the pace.

An all out push without my consent.

I’ve lived more days than I will live.

The knowledge of that a nagging voice, a reminder of my mortality.

Mere days or decades yet away. Not knowing the number left, though it is now one less.

How can I fit it all in? Sitting here as it rushes past, not yet satisfied with stagnating.

So I rise, and live my days, like so many others. Hopefully, finding some peace with the passage.