slaves of the seconds

When I talk about time, I am really talking about an obsession. When I talk about time, I am really talking about an all-embracing structure deeply rooted in our society. Seconds, minuets, hours. Time is a rigid pattern we trust blindly. Nobody notices the seconds. Nobody questions the minuets. Nobody doubts the hours. It is given beyond discussion. Tick, tack, tick, tack.

 

The seconds gang together becoming minuets

minutes join forces taking hours from us

together they are sucking time out of us. Tick, tack.

 

‘I don’t have time’ they all say.

‘Maybe another time’ they all say.

‘Time will show’ they all trust.

 

Running behind, the minuets; transforming into hours. Nobody seems to know how to stop them. They bit us. The hours attack us daily; the seconds, the minuets, the hours. They are screaming at us, the army of time, confronting us without any break. They stress us, always right in front of us; and behind us too. They are laughing at us acknowledging their impact. We are slaves of the seconds.

 

But when I talk about time, I am really talking about an illusion. Some say time doesn’t exist. There can always only be now. The now makes the seconds, minuets, and hours fall apart. The now sees through their game of seemingly importance. The now is laughing at the soldiers of time. Time surrenders to the now, dissolving; together they smile at us.

 

|Prague 2007

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