Time slips through us like water cupped in our hands.
We try to hold it, measure it, fill it.
But what is time, really?
A ticking clock? A sunrise? A lifetime?
Some say it’s a gift. Others call it a test.
To some, time is sacred.
To others, it’s a burden.
We spend it. We lose it. We chase it.
But rarely do we meet it fully.
And what is worth?
Is it what we earn? What we leave behind?
Is it defined by how others see us?
Or how we feel inside?
Who can truly answer that?
And maybe—we don’t need to.
Maybe the point is not to define time or worth,
but simply to be awake to them.
To be aware that each moment holds something—
a chance to feel, to breathe, to love, to return.
So when we say,
“Make your time; worth your time,”
it’s not a command.
It’s a gentle invitation.
To pause.
To listen.
To ask:
What draws you inward, without force?
What feels like home, even in the unknown?
What quiets the chase and invites stillness?
Your worth is not up for debate.
Your time is not waiting to be validated.
This is a journey.
This is an awareness.
No answers needed—just presence.