Time harbors a vast cauldron of possibilities, stewing every moment, spewing everything out into the white smoke or the halcyon skies--it's how one leads his own life. The execution of time is something we will never escape but be bounded by until some other time, continuously looking forward to another event, another memory until at some point we miss it. The antithesis to our destinies quickly reverse, soon enough looking to the past. Do we all fail to grasp the moment? Paralleling a logistic curve, except we are clueless as to where we stand--the limit, the equivalence point, or perhaps we're just beginning. But we'll never know, and it's most likely different for anyone. I don't really believe the moment exists, but rather in the moment we Enter, maybe past, present, future--longing and reminiscing--will fade into that once white smoke, behind us, and that's what we should hope for.
time is ticking away...
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