|As I stare closely at my wall clock, I noticed this lizard who patiently waits for this butterfly who was trapped inside my room…Considering the butterfly’s beauty, the patience being shown by the lizard and the 3 hands of the clock, something profound has been portended in my thoughts..
Time.. I’m kind of confused to say that it is gold, because if it is, I’m going to rob millions of clocks in exchange for gold bars. Got it?
It is something that those three fumy musketeers inside a clock tried to kill since their invention yet until now they hinge on Eveready batteries just to keep on trying , But I think, somehow, they wont chase time forever.
I’m probably dead by then, so I wonder what would it be like. How bout you??
Well for all I know ,
“Under time’s superiority, life’s satisfaction and a life-loss cling.”
For time is living a life.
As for life is death ; as death is for life.
For a living is for life; but is death could be for dead??.
Yet time is after God.
Patience… the one that abided on that lizard.
It is something that chases us often.
It is learned after repentance.
A thing we spend for shallowness and runs out like an oxygen when we’re 6000ft deep into the blue facing sharks of our own images.
Beauty; Shown by the butterfly
We all know what beauty is..
Well anyway, I wonder how beauty was sculpted within our perceptions.
What‘s our conception about beauty was amalgamated with worldly views and tangibility prejudiced over the unseen and meanings.
Wherein, that conception created an isolation and worse it ignited discrimination..
For beauty is something never been set.
It is something being discovered.
It is serendipity… It is serenity…
It is the wind that lifts our spirit.
It is something incorruptible, or, when it does, it never causes depression; for beauty always lies positively.
I think thru all of that , only a word meets an exemption: “nature“.
For it’s nature that we all are looking for..
Time never owned patience, but, it’s patience who seems to engulf time seeking for beauty..
“There’s nothing so powerful than an idea whose time has come.”
So I let the butterfly flew away as I open an east placed window and feel a sweet morning breeze.
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