If It's Inexistant

Time always struck me as an

Odd configuration of numbers on the façade of a primitive perpetual motion machine,

I never quite calculated

How throwaway seconds could turn into unfathomable millennia.

Time always seemed to me a

Heavy blanket of reality in the air around us, a fundamental force,

Springing into being in the

Shatteringly theoretical explosion that red-shifts us all.

Time always struck me as

Inherently inexistent, envisioned but innately intangible

It is incomprehensible

In all that it is everywhere and omnipotent, it can barely be imagined.

Time always seemed to me a

Stuttering human invention to explain the root of that ineffable change,

A term created from paralyzing fear:

That of action and reaction and inaction and what we have done and must do.

Time always struck me as a

Falsehood in and of itself, a lie created by the most self-deluded species only to comfort

And since time doesn’t really

Exist, I didn’t really turn another year today;

I didn’t really climb sixty thousand seconds closer to a great unknown today;

And I am only moved to stand on the cusp of adulthood

In our human-warped view of the world.

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