Universal Obligation

You told me to be gentle,

I know. 

But I did not expect

the way time was

ripped out of my hands.

I clutched it,

grabbed the remnants

I could reach,

dug my nails into its 

soft skin

and did not let go.

But the sun set 

then rose again.

Time inevitably moved 

onward, with me

spinning with the earth.

You, several

rotations behind.

I still remember being held

in a too-tight embrace.

I tried to pull you back

but you tugged away.

Still I held your hand

until you let go, carefully, cautiously,

like putting a child to sleep.