The Clock Doesn’t Own Me

I used to race the ticking hand,

Chasing goals I didn’t plan.

Breathless mornings, restless nights,

Living only by deadlines.

The world kept time, so I obeyed,

Dreams postponed, joy delayed.

Every hour a rule, every minute a chain,

Smiling wide, hiding pain.

They told me hustle means success,

Work more, feel less.

Measure worth by what you do,

Not by what feels real or true.

But one still dawn, I heard my heart—

A quiet pull, a softer start.

It whispered gently, “What if you

Unwound the gears and started new?”

So I sat with tea and let things be,

No calendar commanding me.

The sun still rose, the sky still turned,

But I found peace that can't be earned.

I walked, I breathed, I wrote, I cried,

And laughed again from deep inside.

No hourly bell, no monthly race,

Just present moments I embrace.

Now time is not a master loud,

It doesn’t own me, I’m not bowed.

I move with rhythm, not with fear—

The clock is close, but I steer.

I mark my days by joy and love,

By quiet winds and skies above.

Not how fast or far I go,

But by the seeds I choose to sow.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi