We live within walls of time that seem to change instantly
Or perhaps they stay the same
Both in equal measure
Dancing and crawling and laughing and crying
The walls, when observed closely
Appear to be a portal into the next realm
Time a vessel that holds it all
Freedom
And captivity
Hope
And deprivation
Each begging for our attention
Times in our lives that seem to last forever
Quietly.
Times in our lives that speed past us
Unapologetically.
The portal of time seems to expand and contrast with every heartbeat
At times you feel you can walk freely through the mirage we have created
Basking in the magic of moments that feel like they will last a lifetime
They shape us
They create us
These are the times we experience that seem to walk hand in hand
With countrysides
And small town post offices
And planting seeds that grow into sprouts
An optical illusion?
Time when no walls exist
Boundaries that hold infinity in the palms of its hands
Other times, the mirage of time seems to be a Van Gogh of exaggerations
Time constraints and subdued existence painted colorfully with sweat and saliva and bathroom stalls
Time that gently encourages an ease of missing the point
Shallow breaths
Quicksand
Responsibilities
Time that loops around and around with views out the same damn window
Cities and poverty
Buses and train stations
The same passengers and dialogue and breathing and crying
In all of this
Perhaps time is a measurement we have created to give our existence a shape we can hold onto
To help us to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense
The beautiful mystery of twists and turns
Intangible and tangible
Country sides and deadlines
Small town post offices and responsibilities
Misaligned compasses
And perfectly aligned intuition
To arrive again, back at the beginning
To once again find it all within us already
Love.
Time in its all of its essence
All that is and was and ever will be
All wrapped up within the intricately woven comforter we lay on our laps
Love.
It’s always been love.
Perpetual Emergence 