Time

I have never made friends with time.
Time is false,
a pretender.
Made malleable by the mind.

Yet too strict and unyeilding
for my free spirit.
It is a law I'd like to break.

I have left a trail of busted clocks
and broken watches
in my perpetually tardy wake.

Or am I the liar?
I am a lover of the moon.
I follow her waxings and wanings.
The ebbs and flows of her tide
govern my blood.

I worship the turning of the seasons.
That reassuring cycle
that promises that death follows life,
but life follows death again.

I suppose I find nature's time piece friendlier
than those mockeries made by man.