I rush through life. My world is whirling past.
I tell myself the old and false cliche:
The time will come to slow and breathe at last.

At times I pause. A kiss, a song, a blast
Of rain. The donkey, Time, then starts to bray
And I rush through life. My world goes whirling past.

At times I pause. I think of what I've lost.
Of trips with her. Of each forgotten day
The time had come to slow and breathe at last.

At times, I feel the years unfurling fast
For my parents aging half a world away.
I’ve rushed through life. Their world has whirled and passed.

And now I see the swirling years amassed
Upon their eyes. Their faces, ancient, gray.
Their time will come to slow and breathe their last.

I tell them how I feel. They smile. With vast
Eternal hearts, they set me free and say,
“Live! Rush through life! Your world is whirling past!
Our time will come. Our love will breathe and last."