Time - Poem by R W Miller

Like a pot of boiling water, man contains the stuff of life, With its dangerous turbulent movement, bubbling envy fear and strife, Containment serves essential purpose, while ingredients blend and change From simple plain and ugly structure, to a sweet and complex range In this process man take warning, Fill the pot two thirds at most, For if the stuff of life boils over, the pot gets burnt its contents lost, One third of pot remaining empty (except for that so lightly held, Its fast displacement is no problem, when life rises up repelled) Gives us space to meet the danger, Sympathise and meet the need, With a word of timely wisdom, take an arm and give a lead. Time is space within the saucepan, measure with care, and manage well. Taking on too many burdens, Can tip the pot and all. in hell.