Time is not a river, and it is not a road; it is neither our friend nor foe. We simply have access to it, and we should try our best to make what time we have mean something to us and the people we care about.
The touch of your hand, and a quick embrace My heart races, increasing its pace I long for the acknowledgment of your true feelings Until that time, I am left with these meager dealings.
The world could be better, and we as well. What could help this change, none can tell. Do we strive to help our fellow man? Do we perform the tasks that we can? Is there a better way to share our existence? Can someone tell me the source of this resistance?