A week in time

A week in hours is nothing more than seven sets of twenty four.

But not to normal rules does time consent, a week depends on with whom it’s spent.

When it’s with you it runs so fast, longer though I wish it would last.

Now like time so quick, away you’ve flown. Last week and weeks ahead are mine alone.

Where once time ran swiftly away, now each day’s a week, each hour’s a day.

Song of the week (number 19)

flying home
flying from a land once thought so strange
below me a dream left behind
above me the clouds in which I shall stir

soon I will open my eyes
soon I will emerge into myself once more
this dream is fading fast
for now at least it still seams pure

someday I will sleep again
someday I will visit this land anew
my future is uncertain
but my dreams are mine and mine alone to shape.

The Greatest

Once I wanted to be the greatest
With dreams so bright they lit up the night
They were all I could see

Then came the dawn
Those dreams fading from my sky

Things that once seamed so clear
Are now lost amongst this new day
Now I am blind to them.