What is age

if not a fleeting moment

through history,

gone in an eyeblink,

forgotten;

years, centuries, millennia

pass us by

as we desperately try

to catch up,

change, evolve,

and so

the future me

is not who I am today,

just as I am not

the person who I was

yesterday;

some stars twinkle

and then dim out,

while others go

with an explosion

and people see light and hope

and try to imitate

the inevitable doom,

but not without being heard;

that is what I want,

hope, strive, aspire to be:

a star drowning,

lost in a sea of stars

that is noticed

moments before it dies;

because nothing is

without not being,

not even time.