a diary of words, paper and other ephemeral things

For when moments slip through fingers like sand

a poem written yesterday
in a hurry
because everything felt fleeting
But that’s okay
Each second is a molecule
Slowly moving past my
Point of perception
We do what we can
White-knuckle
Grip on reality
Try not to let
The whirlwind yank us free
But maybe it’d be better
If we just let go.