Time Wasted

Wilting flowers dance on restless winds.
Bending, nearly broken, submissive and
silent. They have no voice, no reason to
fight what may happen. She stands,
perfectly still, bending and nearly broken
by the winds of time. She is submissive
and silent, having no voice of her own.
She has no strength for a fight.

Suspended in space, her wings forgotten
behind her in time wasted. Sands may
rise, carried by the torrents of air and
loved by the body of earth, but it was
time wasted. No point in living if all that
you love is broken.

Wilting angel, her mind shattered and
spread out to the four corners of earth.
She has spent these years trying to find
a meaning to this life she is living. Peace
empties us into War's lap, leaving the
toys of time behind, leaving without any
choice.

And we stand, blinded like Justice, our
hands raised to the sky. We say it was
worth our while, that it wasn't wasted
time. But what is worthwhile? What is
the point of a wilted angel on a dying hill,
entombed by moonrise and moonset,
buried by sky and empty starlit eyes?

Can time really stand still, her arms open
and ready to take us in? We've wasted
her while she was here and she won't ever
come again.