1001 Things

I wish my younger self was wise enough to know
that Time is a fragile thing.
Time is a tender thing.
Time is one tender, fragile, evolving, ever-changing, finiciky, invincible thing.
Don't touch it. It will break.
Don't break it. It will shatter.
Don't meddle with it. It will only return stronger.
Don't move it this way or that. It will stab you in the back
when you're least expecting it.
I wish my younger self was wise enough
to be aware of the passing of Time.
To cup the every moment in her hands like a precious treasure, and never let go.
I wish my younger self was wise enough
to remember to remember every memory.
To make every moment perfect, memorable, something beautiful to reflect on,
rather than forget.
Today, I turned to my younger self, with the naïve, sprout-like mind, reflecting.
What if the secret is not putting Time on this pedstal, loyally spoon-feeding it more power?
What if I just need to
let
it
                                                                                                                                                                                                                           go?
I thought Time was my worst enemy.
I thought I had to devote myself entirely to the pain it offers.
I thought that I had a thousand and one things to teach my younger self.
But oh, how I was wrong.
There are a thousand and one things she has to teach me.
If only Time hadn't killed her.