TICK TOCK SAID THE CLOCK
The only thing that makes this a new year is the calender upon the wall.
A chart designed to measure time.
Every sunset and sunrise counted. Given a name and a time and a number.
I pile them on top of all the other memories of so many days, like stacks of mail. Bills, letters, important documents, junkmail, I never really sort it.
I sit here feeling exactly as I did and as I do and as I always have. And still.
And I am barely able to comprehend that it is now the next moment, much less the next year.
I resent the quietly desperate background noise that accompanies this accounting of time.
The clock and the calender conspire to set a limit on my life.
By their very exsistence they would deny me the infinite. Deny me as infinite.
So, I say no. No.
I will not have it.
I am not temporary.
Of course this body isn’t immortal. It is temporary, but for now I inhabit it and it is me.
I will not think of myself as being limited by a number of hours and days and years.
Moments will pass into one another. As will the days. Sunrises and sunsets, and seasons will come and will come again.
Another year has gone, moment by moment. And in this moment I realize it is now the next moment and now the next, but instead of all these moments simply adding up to a lifetime, I want to make a lifetime out of each moment.
