Jeremy C Kester

Tick tick.

Time continues to march on. Even as I stand there with nothing to do, it continues forth. Unrelenting in its march forward through the ages. Each day passes on becoming another addition to the past, to days no longer in reach but for memory.

Tick tick.

Sometimes I feel the pulse of it all, the quickening of life moving along. Sometimes I can see the mortality of what we are, but mostly I stand in wonder at how I feel as though I am not moving as well… even though I am.

Tick tick.

I look forward, hoping that the destination I see is that which I am indeed heading for. But with each passing day, I see that my footsteps, those footsteps of the past, have fallen away from the path. The path that leads to that hopeful destination. Not death; rather, the life to lead.

Tick tick.

I don’t wish to continue to let these days slip by. Fingers tighten around as the grasp of it loosens. Steps must lead towards my desired life as even as they fall elsewhere, they will perpetually lead towards death. And while I wish to meet death, I wish to do so only after… after I reach where I wish to.

Tick tick.