Sands of Time
Desperately clawing at the grains tumbling, how could I hold onto a speck of time for a moment longer? The present passes by without a glance, already faded from view before I could feel the depth of life, seen yet left untouched.
Time slips through my fingers, each speck a moment glistening between the present and a memory. I think, perhaps if I try harder, focus more, then maybe I could hold onto this piece of life for longer, or at least slow the passing. Such foolishness, to question the laws of nature. The sand will continue to tumble, the sun will rise then fall again, and I will drift amongst the cyclical change of it all. Change, the only promised constant, yet what once was perhaps may be once again: the sun will set then rise once again, joy will follow sadness, and love comes with loss. Like the tides of the ocean, time does not pass per say but flows in and out, in and out; all forms ever present in and of itself. We are an ocean of time, each moment a drop cumulating to the body of water which makes you, well, you. We are just as much of who we once were, as we are who we will become, all versions of us flowing within.
Time, a rather human concept used to rationalize our existence into something to be measured. Yet, I still find myself desperately wishing for more of it, or rather admittingly, more of the "good bits." The seemingly good, healthy days have been stretched far and few, for an unknown amount of time, yet when they do come, they are gone once again before I could fully savor them. Dumbstruck by this thrust of fate I feel a drift from my own body, life appearing hazy and less effervescent than before. Oh, pray tell what will my days amount to? How could I admire and relish the sweet taste of life when I am merely surviving through the falling of each grain of time? I miss the days of childhood where the passage of moments were not a worry on my mind, only an innocent mission to experience everything I possibly could.
Do not misunderstand me, dear reader, for I do not dare dream of turning back the wheel to my youth, nor do I intend to skip this chapter to read ahead. My wish to hold time upon my hands comes from the desperation for a pause, to be able to take a breath and fill my lungs with the crisp air of gratitude for the present. Too often my perception is muddled by the pain of a body I cannot escape, but more alarmingly so, a body I cannot seem to be able to heal. When your ability to properly experience the current moment as fully [body and mind] as others (who do not have to overcome the same reoccurring obstacles) is tenaciously fragile, well you tend to grow to cherish the simple moments; the everyday little miracles that may only exist to remind us of the beauty of this one life.
As challenging as this period has been, I know there is value to be found for it has shaped the person I am today. And I know time will continue to pass, as will the good moments along with the so-called bad ones. I've come to find contentment in it all while looking forward to meeting other versions of myself; versions who are healthy again, who are truly happy, thriving, and fulfilled by all of the life they were able to live, presently. Sometimes I am fearful when I can't feel the particles of time anymore, when I can't seem to remember the moments, the days passed. They could have never been if not for the marked calendars and the people changed, lived, living around me. When I am no longer attached to the living then I fear I may as well be dead, for am I not a body without her soul? However, like all else, these moments too have and shall pass. It is for these moments of trials and tribulations I cannot wait to embrace the me to come, the me who I know will fully worship and embody the life I've been gifted. I shall embrace her in my arms while tears of grief, love, and elation grace my cheeks as I whisper to the world, "we did it, I am here. I've never been so grateful to be alive! Thank you, for never giving up on us, on me; I am so proud of every version of you, and I can't wait to see what more we will become."
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