A lesson finds the common denominator and links us all together, like a chain. At the end of the chain dangles a clock, and on the face of the clock the passing of time is registered. We hear it, the hushed tick-rock sound that breaks any silence, and we see it, but often we don't feel it. Each second makes its mark on every single person's life; comes and then goes, quietly disappearing without fanfare, evaporating into air like steam from a piping hot Christmas pudding. 

Time is more precious than gold, more precious than diamonds, we do not have enough of it; it is time that causes the war within our hearts, and so we must spend it wisely. Time cannot be packaged and ribboned and left under trees for Christmas morning. Time can't be given. But it can be shared.