Time
We feel old when we ride with
time, it wearies the body and the spirit. Time is constantly altering itself in relation to the expanse other than terrestrial space; it deceives, it controls; more than ever it
runs faster and shorter to the point that we can no longer see what is there to see; it
leads us to the blindest of spot; always, it renders us into the realm of false
urgency; to the fiat of constant inadequacy. Time is a unit of measure, and to measure is
to divide and limit, and to limit is to restrict creativity and to set in
definition the human possibility. Hence, I find time to be an inconsistency to
that vastness and infinity called the universe. After all, what is time? Is it a means to
assign man his own little space? Like in a cage, he is confined to the make
believe, that he cannot achieve functionality beyond that space called time. I
have discovered that time does not serve man but to his constriction. It leads
him to a constant state of chaotic circles, then into confusion. I have to get off from this ride
called time. I now refuse to be bounded by time. Thus, I am inclined to rather use the three parts of my forsaken brain in lieu of that space called time, and by the hand of the Almighty is the hope to see beyond the edge and be free. Yes, I am now a rebel
against time, and ultimately will divorce myself from it to take a new ride.
To the ride that is always there… hidden in the plainest of sight; to that ride
called the… “Human MIND”.
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