Second joins with second, all in a line, until then it comes, the end of our time.
Of all the so-called important things that hover about right now, of our pasts and immediate futures, there stands quietly above, through, under and among it all... eternity. We are hurtling toward it even though it seems we’ll be here forever.
As a metaphor for extant living, we walk.
And then we don’t.
What about our stuff? What about our issues... our families... those things that are unresolved?
How important, individually, are they?
Time we have and time we lose as we waste it second after second, ticking away. We all have the propensity to forget that we are like grass, withering in the sun.
Today is up to us; truly, we have it whilst we have it. It really is that simple. One day the seconds will be, for us, no longer. They’ll still tick for the others, but no longer for us. The road, the bridge, that park bench—they’ll still be there, but we won’t.
Does that change or challenge our spectre?
© 2010 S. J. Wickham.