Time passes like the winter wind.
It is felt for the moment - intensely
And like the wind, fades away into the darkness of the past.
IT CAN NEVER BE RECAPTURED, NEVER RETURNED.
It is a single coming and going -
Every moment comes but once, lingers a while, and is gone.
More precious than gold, more common than stones,
It is an element one never has enough of.
It produces a thirst for MORE, and like a drug, it takes effect and arouses a craving for it,
Only when one finds that he is losing it, FOREVER.
Written in 1953 by Benedicto S. David
(Filipino student at Marquette Univ., Milwaukee, Wisconsin)
Submitted by Julie Feliciano (Phillipines) to www.motivateus.com
My brother wrote this poem when he underwent an operation on his leg, all by himself in a foreign land, at age 20. He became a foreign correspondent, and died in 1988. Before his death, he was looking for a copy of this poem that he had packed among his things long ago, and we miraculously found it, and displayed it on his casket before he was interred.