Time May Yet Give

Life is created in small portions- we call them moments.  Tiny seemingly insignificant measures of time that we watch pass on a continual march from some place we are to where we are going.  Tiny packets that carry no plague or promise nor even an indication of possibility but yet have such power as to change the course of humanity within a heartbeat or a grasp.   Fragments of our lives both won and lost that disappear into nothingness just as they came leaving whispers, whimpers, and impressions.  Remembrances etched  not as passing seconds but as reverberations through a lifetime in our own psyches.  We fixate on hours, days, and weeks; all measures of the same framework.  All permeated with these tiny parasites that creep by with absolute indignation as we struggle with who we are, what we are, or what we feel we should be.  We fade at its passing like the leaf in the tree, we grow dimmer as they grow longer, all the while we fail and fall, bitch and laugh, smile and frown as they just continue unannounced, oblivious to our needs for more of them in our lives or that so many have stacked up upon the road that trails us.

In a blink a path is changed or accepted.  We choose by chaotic fate or environmental maelstroms, we face the fact that yet another is gone until at last there are no more and we are nowhere.  Yet, still in that time, we had something neither good nor bad just, “We were here!”    We rise with the sun, falter under the weight, and still tomorrow we once again, will seek our own fate.

Alone, time still comes neither guiding nor affecting; it simply progresses.  However inconsequential these moments, unknown and distance, are keys when proper thoughts have bred action.  Movement by choice and drive from instinct and luck time stands still to momentum and desire.  For time served, is time fulfilled, and as such it yields currents and currency.

In  that one moment time’s progress may not change but the course we have snared will have striking recourse forcing time to reconsider our place in its progress and allowing us to travel within its grateful parade and just as the high tones bellow and all is right in life, the final tick of the clock falls and there lies moments past- forever.  Unaware that we no longer travel, unmoved by our absence, for its nature is not personal, its presence unyielding, the good sprawled in measures from the age of stars to the life of flies.  No marquee or banner strung by time.  No eulogy, no press; just a symbolic reunion with the incalculable moments that wait beneath our roaming feet.  What we considered pressing; depleted.

Are we remembered and then are we shared?  Have we projected our images on the fabric of time, imprinted our deeds and duds so that others might gain and grow?  Have we done well, for the veil, or have we disappeared into the void?  Awash in silence?  This moment measured in scales eventually all that can remain is but dust and starry trails.  A few choice minds as we might occupy and even then, in time, we will pale.

Time may yet give some echo of the “I am” that passed through this field.  Faint brushes in the grass as I stride, the path that led though this life, occupy this space, and imprinted my soul in the flowing seeds that brush against my palms.  Tick, tick, I walk on.  Able companion rising in sync with my breath.  This heart with life relished, boxed, and tidied for those that follow.

I am, I was; am I not?  Time marches on…

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