The Race

The second hand races to the finish line.
The minute hand slowly creeps behind.
The hour hand yells "Slow down!"
As the others dash right on by.

The speedy ones can taste the gold
and hunger for attention
But the slow ones know
The difference of direction.

How many times must I whisper "Just wait?"
Until you lighten your "I'm late!"
Time needs to be cherished,
Although beauty is fleeting.

Only time makes us wonder
Why we are here
Why we are loved
Why we are being.

The answer is inside
If you are willing to look
Just take some time
And wait...