Time

by Shawnong

Time. Contained within it, the deepest and most elusive mysteries. It slithers away when you try to hold on and grounds itself when you try to push it. It’s like friction; opposing your every motion. Maybe it’s just the vile nature of time, completely inherent. Or maybe it’s our own folly dragging us deeper into the abyss and never-ending space. Blinded by the thoughts in our head, our mind sequestered from body, we limit our sights to the crevices in our faults, disallowing light to extend our vision. Focused only on the contemporary, till the shock of impact radiates through our bodies. Only then might we awake from the delusion. But it seems so right now, it seems so necessary. It is obscuring yet clear. Insidious, but sweet. Or is it all just a fantasy?

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