I want to capture Time. Contain it. Hold it. Feel it. Make it stop moving. I want to feel it. Nuzzle it. Hold it. Smell it. I want to feel it in my hands. I want to wrangle it. Want to tame it. Want to know its essence, it’s feel, it’s smell, it’s movement and grace (or clumsiness, as it may be).
I want to make it stop running away from me.
But it’s still running. Hightailing it into the sunset. Every sunset. Thousands of sunsets have passed now (over 8000 for me, in fact) but with every sunset, I can only watch as another day ends. A day that was just like another. A day that was will be like the next. They all bleed into another. They all die into each other. The day is bright. I turn around and it is dark, streetlight illuminating the landscape. Ended. That day will not come again.
I want to chase time. Find out where it goes, what it is up to.
But it’s so elusive. Wild. There but not there. Seen but unseen. A ghost running with a lamp in the fog. You can see the lamp, but not the ghost. And even if you try to follow, you just can’t. Running, running. Never doing anything else but running. Through my vision. Through my hands. Through me.
The essence of Time is something intangible and something immensely tangible feeling every second, every minute and ever hour that you are awake and breathe with the mundane wonder of life.
Just a random literary, metaphysical rambling. This past week has been a whirlwind of time. Lots of stuff going on. Mostly of it meh, some of it crappy and just a bit of it good.