Time

It’s been 10 days. It’s been 9 hours, possibly 10 minutes, as well as 14 seconds. I'm not clock watching, I'm not waiting or missing the time, as I'm instead wishing for something else. I've written many words, paraphrased the numerous descriptive passages, defined, declined, ignored many aspects and basically waited until this very moment. Procrastination, the sin of the many, the very soul of a few, the beginning or even the end of things to come.

I've stopped doing what I love, the ideal scenario, the light to my very fire. Although I still feel the words, still connect to the meaning of the letters, I've stopped and it’s hurting. The very idea of your existence, to deny such a thing, is beyond my compassion yet I'm still looking at the seconds. Stand, sit down, walk a distance, crawl a mile, it’s all the same.

My mind screams, at times, as I deny what I must and should undertake. Why do I resist the conclusive words of my life? We've, from our very start, been taught such an existence but that’s hardly an excuse.  Be, or simply do not, there is no other ending. Accomplish your dreams or languish in your own denial. Which? Make a choice, decide, but making such a decision means an active conclusion yet, instead, we often just… exist.

When you fall, when you drift, into your night time slumber, do you dream of another place filled with other faces? Do you even dream or is the person within, dying, suffocating, unable to realise that we can be free within this world and the next? We often talk about the next life, the life after our eyes finally close but, being honest, what if, even for a second, this is the only chance we’ll ever have! We can have all of the alternative stories played within our dreams, when we sleep, the great never ending practise of life, but each morning, without fail, the real test is here right before our eyes.

I no longer wish to scream, to just exist, as I’d prefer to be. Something, someone, to prove a point to myself, to scream even though I know that I’ll probably be the only person to listen but, no matter how loud, that’s perfectly fine with me. I do not seek confirmation, praise from others, but I do, I truly do, only wish to bring a smile to another person’s lips. Starting at a designated time, which is not at this very second, I will set a task, a conclusion, an ending to what I seek. Then I must set another ending, then another, then another until I have found something inside that can finally rest.

We all have fire, burning, simpering, a flame flickering deep within our souls wanting and wishing to rise through our very spirit. It cannot be stopped once the adrenaline starts, the target, the scope of what could be, yet we listen to so many other people, we allow ourselves to be defined and that, alone, dulls any fire that could possibly ever be. Strife, struggle, makes you more. Being a clone, being objectified, makes you absolutely nothing.

It’s been 10 days. It’s been 9 hours, possibly 14 minutes, as well as 34 seconds. I am clock watching, I'm checking the time, realising that the next second could be my very last on this world. I'm not a betting man, a causal believer, so I'm not going to trust the second chances transcribed within books that hold no meaning to my soul. I must act. Now. Achieve. Right now. In the next 10 seconds, or maybe even 14, I can set a task, then work. It’s as easy as time.