SCATTERED

"Another week has dripped from my life and scattered amongst the stones. How many more will there be before the worms feast upon my bones."

A somewhat sombre and ominous lead in to a poem, not about time and not much about death. Rather the poem wraps its core around the paramount importance of pursuing a balanced life, however precarious it might be, from time to time. Metaphorically, the sun always comes out; it's always there and the clouds aren't.