Well here I am, chugging along towards the second week of February, 2015. The year is six weeks old already, and there’s no turning back. It’s almost as if forward progression is all we have some days, and no matter how much you look to the past, when you realize that you’ve snapped back into the present, it’s later than it was before. Time waits for no one, and we always seem to be rushing around to be on time.
I hate to be late.
Always have, always will. Fashionably late to me seems like a lack of planning took control and had its way with all those involved. Lack of respect for time will usually end up creating unforeseen circumstances that could have been avoided if someone would pay mind to time. When you’re late, you’re late. Trying to turn back the hands of time only creates a void that you will never have the chance to take advantage of again. I’m getting to the age where my present time is absolutely what I make of it. I can’t wait around for something amazing to happen. My amazement, or a good portion of it starts with little old me. Not you, not them, not him. Ha! Most definitely not him!
It all starts with what we do with our time.
I wrote the following pasted piece of mind bending consumption a few months back, and when I read it, well, I’ll let you be the judge. ***
Tick, Tick, Tick, there it goes again.
Hands sweeping away the time of another timeless day.
Scores of seconds find their rhythmic beat as they continue to keep time.
Read along, and you’ll be right in time for the next chapter.
Follow the swirling hands of time, and hypnotize the day away.
Stack, and pack, while keeping track, and on and on it goes.
Write it down; punch it in, log on, just in time.
Same time as it was yesterday, right about this time.
There it goes, taking its time, again and again.
It will tell its own story, in its own way, in its own time.
Fear not, though it may appear to be just a waste of time.
Through the ages, the gentle caress of time will work it all out.
Breaking away the moments that made up Floyd’s dull, flittering day.
Isn’t it about time that we’re on time, just this one time?
A wonderful time, had by all who took the time.
In the knick of time, times two, and don’t forget to carry the three.
One last time, followed by just one more time, if you have the time.
Healing all wounds, while standing still, time and time again.
Time to start something new, hoping to finish it just in time.
Time to get up, to wake up, to stand up and get ready for bed.
Time to leave, to go, and to never look back.
For everything, there’s a time, and a time for everything.
In the nick of time, a stitch in time will surely save some time.
Timeless masterpieces find time to keep in time with modern times.
This is the last time, and probably the time before that.
Is there such a thing as an endless journey, followed by a timeless tale?
Isn’t it about time you found out what time it is?
I suppose I’ll let it go, but only this one time.
Time and time again takes up where time left off.
Once upon a time, there was time to dream.
It’s times like these that try the hands of time.
There’s no time like the present to make an effort to at least be on time.
This is the last time I’ll spend my time figuring out what time is a good time for you.
And there you have it.
Time, in all its glory, all its magnificence, all its wonderful wonderment will always end up being one exact thing.
No matter how you describe it, or spell it, or wish upon it, it will always be yours, mine, ours to do with however we deem appropriate. It will always exceed our wildest imaginations, and although it may fall short sometimes, it will still fall.
I have been on the other end of time, stood in front of the movement of time, waited for a long time, and wondered for a short time. I have taken the time, given up on time, looked for some extra time and wondered why time was taking so long. When time has run out, I would turn around to notice that all the time in the world was at my fingertips, and as I scooped up as much of it as I could, eventually I would figure out that I could always handle a little bit more.
Time possesses us all, and each of us possesses our own time.
There have been things in my life that have caused me to wish away the time, while other situations had me begging for more. When time finally runs out, it starts anew somewhere else. The countdown of life never ends, and as we live with each moment of our lives, we build a story that is bound within the hands of, you guess it, time.
Please, if you have a little time, take the time to have an incredible time today.