Awakening

Suddenly, bankrupt and heartbroken, the realization that nothing good could possibly come of this hibernation dawns on our hapless hero.

Time. The all elusive, enigmatic, "something-that-is-no-thing" thing, forcibly occupying great chunks of my existence, I wish to find it rendered useless, yet alas! when subjected for too long to its absence, which never truly happens, I'm left confused and disoriented.

If words could make one sick, as does a movie, a carnival ride, or alcohol, if words alone could induce the physical response, that "eXtreme" feeling of euphoria, that low mid-recovery when every sight beheld yields a feeling; disdain, contempt, alacrity. Then too, words, used alternatively, might make one well, and if that's the case, well, then its for me brother, that's my raison d' etre and I'm never going to stop, not ever, not e'en after the fingers have stopped their pecking at these keys will the words have ceased because the words, the words are one of the most nearly eternal handiworks of which one could boast. The proud, however, will find that they are the ones committing the err which we'd earlier scarcely discussed, that is, <u>feeling</u> for no reason other than the desire to feel, to pretend the time's all gone, then wail in their haughty boasts, <br>
"If I can wield a thousand swords, would I not be mighter still than a man with only one?"<br>
the answer's no, and the reason's clear -- juggling the load of weapons, the assets, arsenals of occupations, hobbies, interests, vocations, professions, social demands, familial requirements, acquaintance's requests, mentors, teachers, students, and on and on for an eternity, or a lifetime, whichever comes first. Time, time, time elapses in the blink of a lash and we're powerless to this you know, powerless, and its not that this is a "new" concept, not by any means, the awareness of this fact has existed as long as...oh, do I dare say it again? Time.<br> Everything was ahead of its time and behind the times at the same time. Is this, then, the only intimation of immortality that we can hope to know? The moment. This instant, here; be it a second or a lifetime, existing at once in the now, then, and to be.