Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. ~Henry David Thoreau
We measure it. It marches on.
Some try to kill it. Stop it. Suspend it.
It is of the essence as we work around the clock.
Some have given up on circular time for digital. It's not ten to two; rather 1:50. It's not a quarter of anything anymore.
Watches have released from the wrist. We check a cell phone's notification. Or, borrow it from others.
Time's white rabbits rush on the rampage. We argue that we don't have time when we just need to "take" time.
Writers expel ideas in the
moment. We can speed or slow sentences and paragraphs to create mood and
provide intensity to capture the reader. Decades can exist in pages. In a
chapter, time shrinks, expands or gets pruned as irrelevant.
Poems and stories
jump forward, backwards, even sideways. Characters might move in parallel time
exploring worlds beyond the present.
Discover an afternoon free of time's relentless hold. For a suspended hour, nothing dictates but the imagination.
Take time to write about time!
Take time to write about time!
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