time...

a blanket commodity, time. perhaps the only consistent aspect of life.
something, arguably, we all have equal amounts of. a second for you is the very same second for me. the difference is in how we capitalize on the time.

what you do with it, and the emotions that attach to time, is merely situational perspective--
the actual ticking seconds didn't know any better when those brief and scattered
moments of lucid memory stick out.

time, in the absolute sense, is indifferent.
devoid of emotion, unknowing of its own progression,
it simply trudges on and on in its circular patterns, charted and cataloged
by we, the feeble humans who try to control and manipulate everything about this life.

all the while we are trying to catch it, to get to that moment where
everything will be clear, everything will be still, everything will be ours...
time is slipping away.

a mysterious undergrad english classmate, named jeremy nettleton, wrote a fantastical story for a fiction writing class at iowa state university back in 1996 that had such a brilliant observation that has stuck with me for all this time. In his story he said that time was invented when someone paid attention to their beating heart, and knew that at some point it would stop.

how do you spend your time?