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I pass and repass my time,   Counting how much time,   Lost—I’ve been troubled for so long,   Trying to catch up with time.   Lost in the weighty archives,   Lives and archives of time.   Time and temptation—how much time   Will I spend speaking of time?  Lost or future—it’s not the time   To speak of a future while I live in the present.   By the sea, I lose and don’t lose my time.   I don’t know where to rest my head—maybe I’m wasting time,   Thinking too much,   Questions, vision, and ambition,   Embellished by the disappearance   Of old temptations.   That’s why I’m here.   I think negatively but forget the real meaning of "present."   A gift—and today, ambition explodes,   No more temptation to be the best without too many questions.   My body is calm, but my thoughts are in motion.   If I don’t speak, it’s because I’m revising my plans of action.   Life is a playground.   I’m young, but I already feel old.  I want to wander in my own space of play,   A childish metaphor to describe an old soul’s thoughts.   I’ve drawn too many options—   I want to fill the void.

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