Time is vast.
I do not need to do all things, all at once, even though at times I am undoubtedly compelled to and perhaps the joke is this is exactly what is happening, as I have seen that look in your eyes at times and it feels remarkably familiar.
When was the last time you sat and watched the birds?
I have, at times, heard them sing sweet melodies to one another and wondered, not for what reason they sing, for I know full well the desire for companionship, but why they sing and likewise the reason they seek to find one another and reproduce at all. Do they not know how short the years before they will wither and die? Do they not know that their children will succumb to predation and disease, that they may very well fall from the safety of the nest while still unhatched and spill forth onto the earth below in a soggy mess of yellow and translucent ooze? Are they as a program, set to copy and paste ad infinitum without ever knowing why, or is there true longing within them that transcends those precious warbles and flittering twitches to find a contentment in the warm embrace they seek from one another and the knowledge that others hatched of their love might find the same?
There are times where I want to reach out and grab hold of the sunrise or the sunset and place what I have collected in my pocket, that I might share it with you, that I might remove it and remember the next time that I am alone in a dark and cold room, or even just that I might hold it safely as proof that such a thing once existed; yet, these things are intangible outside of the moment and the moment is infinitely ephemeral from this limited perspective.
Life is so very short.
In the moment, we often barely understand all that is occurring before the next has come and the experience we wish we had embraced with all our hearts has passed.
Yet.. Isn’t it strange how, though they pass so quickly, the moments of the day pile one on top of the other, towering by the twilight hours in a squirming pile of joy, sadness, love, fear, anxiety, and overwhelming awe which we recall as memories of the sensations we experienced, vivid at times beyond what was initially processed.
Time is vast.
Our time is not.
Objects, and the Distance Between Them 