Once Without a Time

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For someone who is so obsessed with time, I seem to forget that most people move on with it.

It is not an attribute of the common, to hang up a broken clock in the hall of their stagnant lives. That is a pattern of my own.

I’m typically atypical in my state of standstill. I’m inspired to aspire from the walls within.
The lure of the day marks just the coming of the night. The night beckons me to sleep, for the coming of a new day.

But others, they venture forward and seek to get lost, knowing that the discovery of life comes in the adventure of its course.

Their tales will be told as a time they were once upon, but mine will be told as being without, for I live in a place where the ticks do not applaud me, so I am not accepted as part of that story.

Once without a time” will be my only legacy. I’ll be lost outside of the ages.
Unaccounted for, for I didn’t count the score, counterbalancing the accounts of times galore.

Yes, it’s a strange thing to sit and write about time. For actually, it completely eludes me.

T
Diary of a Deluded Heart

Written: September 7th 2016
Published: January 31st 2017

{Written with Vallendri Arnout in mind}

Tick Tock Said The Clock

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Today I got lost in the clock room at the British Museum – I love this place, tracing back to when & how people first started measuring time. On the one hand, it makes me reconsider my own notions of time; how I spend it and how precious it is with each passing day. On the other hand, my mind races ahead to a place where everything is infinite and knows it’s not bound by the hour. The ultimate discrepancy: Time versus Infinity.

Reflection: The human appetite for time is endless; it’s the most precious commodity, but the sorrow of lost time becomes a permanent hole in the human heart.

Result: We’re consumed by the count – Dictated by the ticks, move with the tocks. Pause for the chimes, obsessed with the clocks

But there are consequences to counting the moments when you measure time with a clock. How very human of us to do so; to mark the minutes, but not use them wisely. To measure the days length instead of focusing on its miracle. I suppose that’s why I like my clocks broken… Continue reading “Tick Tock Said The Clock”