Ash and dust caught up in a whirlwind that gradually displaces us. Our time is ever winding down, and our destination is the ground. It may come with a crash or without sound, but itâs always too soon. An absence felt, and weighed down with the knowledge that Iâm not adapting to it too well (no) Iâm taking my time with every step, and minding my pace with every breath Because Iâm not in a race to outrun death, thatâs a race that Iâd lose just as we all do. Never too near or far, but always too soon. Iâm taking my time with every step, and minding my pace with every breath Because Iâve no patience or respect for death, for it only intrudes, and weâve all worn its wounds. Whether itâs near or far, itâs always too soon. And so I cling to life and shield myself with loved ones on all sides. For no mortal man can transcend time, but loving memory always survives. Unless you love, your life will flash by.