Time won’t turn on its side if we’ve never fallen down. The past can’t catch up with us if time stops where our knees hit the ground. The hourglass, tipped, gives us space to reflect what’s gone before, a place to decide whether or not we even want it anymore. A sliver of what has been sifts away at our ever-changing shore, while the oracle of what’s to come floods the blinded enemy at our core. What is up ahead ebbs and flows and as quickly as it comes … it simply goes.

Vanishing without a trace, neither has the stamina to create when we’re face down in the sand that was once said to have been or to become our fate. The sliver will chip away. The oracle will beg to play. Both reach equilibrium as the fallen stops to wait. In the presence of the present grains, there lies a secret for wandering wisdom in the wisest truth. The shallows of the water washes them here nor there, intermingling in the center, where the sage meets its youth. Mud becomes clear when the two united states settle and become aware … that there is so much more to being when there is plenty of time to spare.





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