... where does it go?

I looked up; the clock had 'jumped' another hour without my knowing it. I knew I was in trouble again when the phone rang.
"You said 'a half hour' over an hour ago...."
"I know, I know I just lost track of time.... I'm sorry."
You would think after almost thirty years of marriage I would be able to keep better track of time when it comes to making it home for dinner on time. But I don't. I only seem to get worse as times passes. It's a good thing I have such an amazing woman to take care of me the way she does. And it's a wonder my butt doesn't 'fall off'' or get left somewhere... if you consider the old saying about "losing your butt".
I suppose I love the work so much I just get lost in the moment and it turns into several hours before I realize it. I don't have this problem when I'm under a trailer fixing a water leak. Time drags on like a bad cold when I'm fixing leaks.
I just read for over an hour and it seems as though I just sat down a few minutes ago. I'm studying HTML code to become a better web builder.With this 'work', I never seem to have enough time.
Have you ever actually thought about time? How does it work? How does it measure itself? When does it know when it's late... or early for that matter?
And when it's gone.... where does it go?

...and it was there

I arrived at the studio to do some much needed work on the websites.
I didn't want to fall too far behind on them but I had. The problem with getting behind is the time it takes to get "into gear" and actually make some progress. With so many tasks to choose from, I mentally flipped a coin and dug in.
After a few hours I happened to be checking my email when I ran across a devotional I subscribe to and was drawn in. The words made me feel like shutting everything down and going off to some secluded spot and just sit. I haven't done that in ages and it's way overdue.
Instead I picked up my pen and began to write. Before I knew it I had penned a whole verse and part of another. For awhile I thought the rest would come but it didn't so I returned to my labors and put it out of my mind for the time being.
The afternoon went by quickly and I began a weekly scan to clean up the computer. I was given a message that the computer would be running a scan for awhile and I thought of the unfinished song laying there on my desk. This would be a good time to take another look at it.
Leaving my desk, I went downstairs and picked up my guitar. Plugging in the cord was quick "one, two" and soon the sound filled the sanctuary.
The tune didn't come right away but it did come and I began to sing the verse.
I don't know about you but there is something 'magical' about writing a song. Not the bad magic like you see in a Harry Potter movie, the 'good magic' that comes from inspiration deep within the spirit; that God gift.
I don't know why he chooses me for these special moments but I certainly recognize the gratitude and humility that rises up in me as the song comes to life on the page and in my hands as I strum along haltingly at first and then boldly. Unless you're a songwriter or a poet or a carpenter or a sculptor or... how many other kinds of people get these 'gifts', I don't know that you can understand what I mean, but it's glorious and more.
At first there is nothing there and then it's there; complete and beautiful and sweet and strong.
I had no idea until I looked ...and it was there.