The gentle touch of the breeze i s foreign to my skin
The air is so crisp it clashes within my breast as if it is a caged beast trying to escape from my
The noonday sun pierced my pupils as my eyelids struggle in vain to keep the invaders at bay
Yes I am a stranger in my own world
Yes I have returned from my hiatus
But, no I am not worried of not finding myself where I was
I look forward to the new adventure that comes out of fitting myself back into the world.
It has been a year
One whole year
Fifty two weeks
Three hundred sixty six days
My mind gets heavier and heavier
My shoulders sink consequently, lower and lower
I stare at the now worn down sneakers which seemed brand new just a blink ago
It i s then that I realize that weeks are a matter of months
Months a mere matter of years
And years, a matter of life
To spend a year is to live life, live our life with the blessing of time. It is an inescapable one way transaction. So if we have no choice on how much of our timely currency we spend, if we have no say in how much we have to begin with,
Why worry about what happens when we run out,
When you can instead worry about how to get your money’s worth.
And then there are those who worry
about which purchases will get them where in life, what they can afford with their wealth
of time, what they cannot.
To them I say life is the only investment that guarantees a profit. No matter what you pay no
matter how much you pay you will get something back, something that you choose to get back
With the infinite possibilities of what your future will be, how true would i t be of you to point out
“this” and say with certainty?