Moebius Trip

6 years to a 6 year old feels like forever,
6 years to a 60 year old goes by in a flash,
The longer life lasts, the shorter it feels.
The more time that’s passed, the shorter the reels.

A year in the corporate rat race flies by so quick.
A year within prison passes so slow in the thick.
Unfocused, experience passes through like oil through a sieve.
Time with no purpose,  the experience leaves but a residue.

A day for an addict is a string of flashes in the pan, a short snort, a quick nip.
The same day to a counselor, a stitched together quilt of recovery visits.
Filling the day seeking to fill an imagined hole.
Whether in one’s self or trying to help another feel whole.

That glorious moment of birth, first light, first breath, first scream.
The sweet second of death, last shudder, last gasp, last scene.
One closing the loop of the other, making partial complete.
Both a part of the same strip running from eyes alight to the last lids droop.

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