Many things i tell myself

Some wish that time would stop,
That they may savour the precious moments.
Yet, others can't wait for time to fly,
That their long suffering may end.
But regardless, time flows on.
Unfeelingly, mindlessly.
Time is but another manifestation of reality.
Both move on their destined paths like ageless sentinels.

For us, we simply lose our way in all this sophistry,
Or still lose our minds trying to find a way.
Things living are all victims of time,
For it moves us inexorably to the end.

I am but a hapless puppet.
Home is a blessing of many wonders,
The very word can inspire and uplift.
And that means so much more in NS.
Homely comforts are unparalleled.
The warmth and love given so freely after a week's starvation.
Soothes and mends the broken soul beyond any measure.
Being deprived of all these at the end of a weekend,
A cruel thing to do.
I'm nothing more than a prisoner.
The pain and hurt, although brief.
Surges over me, leaving me hallowed and empty.
Like a pheonix cycle, rising from the ashes only to return to the earth.