Sometimes, the loudest sound, is the ticking of the clock...
Or the beating of the heart... Today's FGR challenge is "c'mon, feel the noise" - but I didn't feel like rocking it out today. Strange that two of my contacts had the same thought train I had - that sometimes the loudest sounds are the simply the ones we can't ignore. The sound of time ticking away on us - relentlessly - unceasingly... tick... tick... tick...
Look here: www.flickr.com/photos/cre8iveaddiction/3046550085/
and here: www.flickr.com/photos/hammondsbabies/3047197964/
When you get to be of a certain age, you suddenly realize that you only have so many Saturdays, so many Thanksgivings left, even if you live to be a hundred. Suddenly, the math isn't so difficult to do, and each one that's squandered - each day that's wasted - hurts.
It reminds me of the epilogue from The Moody Blues' old song, "Knights in White Satin" - one of the few poems I know by heart..,
Breathe deep, the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
pensitive people look back and lament
another days' useless energy spent
Impassioned lovers, wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love and has none
New mother picks up and suckles her son
Senior citizens wish they were young
Cold hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight
Red is gray, and yellow white
But we decide which is right, and which is an illusion
Sometimes, the loudest sound, is the ticking of the clock...
Or the beating of the heart... Today's FGR challenge is "c'mon, feel the noise" - but I didn't feel like rocking it out today. Strange that two of my contacts had the same thought train I had - that sometimes the loudest sounds are the simply the ones we can't ignore. The sound of time ticking away on us - relentlessly - unceasingly... tick... tick... tick...
Look here: www.flickr.com/photos/cre8iveaddiction/3046550085/
and here: www.flickr.com/photos/hammondsbabies/3047197964/
When you get to be of a certain age, you suddenly realize that you only have so many Saturdays, so many Thanksgivings left, even if you live to be a hundred. Suddenly, the math isn't so difficult to do, and each one that's squandered - each day that's wasted - hurts.
It reminds me of the epilogue from The Moody Blues' old song, "Knights in White Satin" - one of the few poems I know by heart..,
Breathe deep, the gathering gloom
Watch lights fade from every room
pensitive people look back and lament
another days' useless energy spent
Impassioned lovers, wrestle as one
Lonely man cries for love and has none
New mother picks up and suckles her son
Senior citizens wish they were young
Cold hearted orb that rules the night
Removes the colors from our sight
Red is gray, and yellow white
But we decide which is right, and which is an illusion