Tears blur my vision. I cannot see the moon clearly. There is this big ocean and at the end, I see the moon. Piercing through the clouds and sparkling the water with its borrowed luminescence. It is funny how there is so much in nature that can define every part of my life. Every stage that I’ve ever been through can be seen being reflected off the mirror of nature.
The moon shines in the night, guiding souls when they actually need the light. Nobody yearns for the scorch when the sun shines it. But give them a lonely night and they will worship the moon. The sun is the perfect symbolization for that old proverb, ‘Running after what they don’t have, whilst dragging in the mud, what they do.’
Filling a spot for the magnanimous and esoteric ball of fire and doing so from the light it borrows from the superior source itself. And what do we see in the moon; patches of black that cover the face of it.
Your time of birth is recorded and your time of death is recorded. Some record what happened in between, for some itis being recorded. Some are never born and their lives were as meaningless as the light from the moon. Manifestation, endurance, struggle, ultimately corrupted and awaiting death leaving all the bills in the banks.
It bewilders me that the human species has found peace in this small spheroid that they’ve been thrown into. How can we not spend every second of our lives pushing the interstellar boundaries knowing that there is space that hasn’t been charted? There is saying in my native tongue, “Koop-mandook” which literally translates to – a frog in the well.
It depicts the life of a frog who has accepted his life in the well as the farthest outreach he can ever get to. He never tries to leave the well. And this is the ideology that has trapped the‘superior’ human species. The world has been drugged on shit that hasn’t been injected into their systems. It has spread visually, virtually and through the remaining 4 senses. We sleep under alarm clocks and time has governed our lives and now it enslaves us.
There is too much hate in this world; too much violence. Time is an ever-decaying radioactive process that consumes all around it, except for itself. Immortalized at inception, time has been given the ultimate power; to govern the existence of all there is.
The discovery of time was not a mere coincidence, nobody stumbled on it. And it wasn’t a chance either. Sooner or later someone would’ve divided the day into sections. Time was hiding in plain sight with an obvious intent of being found. For the sake of humanity, I sometimes wish that it would’ve been best for all if time was ignored. Death would've come anyhow; no one would spend years, counting years; because there won’t be any such thing.
There is a second face to life; one without the existence and tyranny of time. My generation and the generations that have existed have been far too inter-woven into this layered fabric to imagine what that second life would be like. If time was a being of conscience, in less than a century, it would have killed itself.
What would it be like, if there was no concept of time?
Penny for your thoughts?