Time

Time. The thing that once gone makes even the most successful person long for it. The last few months flew by me, while I was just sitting on the pavement, watching the cars bearing the dates on their door pass me by. The cars sped by with so much speed, that it dazed me for some time, and so much so that I couldn’t even make out the number on some of those. Even today, as I sit in one of the cars that did stop, I repent my inability to flag the others down. The feeling of loss for the time gone by makes me laugh sheepishly at my own mistake. The nervous laughter that emits from my mouth clearly indicates what I actually feel, the look in my eyes cementing the feeling in place. No matter what I say, what excuses I make up, the thing always remains, the amount of time that has gone by is astronomical. Time, just like water, follows past you no matter what ever you may try. If you try to put in your hand in the stream, the water would just flow past the hand, through the cracks. No matter what you try or do you cannot stop the flow of water, since ultimately it has to go back to where it belongs, the cycle of life. So is time also a part of the cycle of life, does the time lost at some point of time return back to you at some later day? Or does the time not return, rather comes back to haunt you? And when in fact it comes, is the haunting doubled or tripled, making the cost of one month in the past into three months in the future? One thing is for sure, time is never wasted. Maybe it is used in something’s that could decide the next course of life. Could I be missing the point here? Was I to busy just watching the cars pass me by to see the people that walked along on the pavement behind me, now and then, inquiring about why was I not walking along with them? Was it my fault that I stopped on the Path of Life, just because the speed scared me? The fact that if I had walked along the path, the speed of the cars could have appeared slower makes a timid motion from the back benches. The fact simply stands up and says, “What if?” to which I have no reply. Hanging my head in shame I step down from the car, and walk back to the house just across the street, the house that harbours the repenting souls that are dissatisfied, the House of Life. As I take a walk along the wall looking at the Tapestry of Life, I can see the strands that have broken away from it and now hang loose. These strands of the thread make me believe for a moment that there is in fact a single quick fix solution to make things right. That solution is to use a cello tape and to join everything together to the best of ability. But then when I really try to get down to do the thing, it seems to me that the solution is as mentioned nothing but a quick fix one. My mind wonders, “What if I take up a needle and a few extra threads and spent time carefully sewing back the unsettled threads.” What then? Would this stitching hold? Or by the time I finish one of the ends the other one would start to unravel. One thing is for sure, no matter how hard I try threads would always spring up from the tapestry. But the only thing I hope is that these threads are in fact from the farther ends, so that they don’t trouble me.

Even as the owls start to yawn, I sit in the front of the computer smack in middle of the night, with nothing else on my mind except as to how I wasted the last few months, my mind begs me to reconsider the fact that what is gone, has gone and that time has already left the building, you cannot do anything about it, at least not by writing things in metaphors, things that you think mean something but sadly would make even an ounce of sense to people, because it is too abstract, nah who am I kidding here, because it is too much of bullshit (:D).