You Are Days

What are you? Nothing, but a number of days, a fragment that passes with the passage of days. You do not have time — time has you. Each morning is not a gift, but a fallen leaf. Your youth fades silently — like a candle, that burns from doing exactly what it was meant to do. Time keeps running — it won’t stop for your ambitions to be fulfilled. It slips through your fingers — especially when your hands are full — of noise, of distractions, of things that won’t matter when your days run out. So weigh your days not being buried under mindless repetitions or borrowed dreams. For every day that ends, takes with it a part of you that will never return.