Moments of Meaning

Time is a commodity

A currency

That can't be bartered

Or borrowed

We steal it in quick spurts

Along the paths

We are given

No marker exists

Indicating where those paths

Might travel or where

They will end

There are only precious moments

Remembered

Along the way

Like snapshots pasted

Along the continuum

Of the universe

That give us

Some sense of meaning

In our flash of existence

Within cosmic time