I am up late working, as is the case so often this year, when personal and business projects demand most everything I’ve got (and I give it). To make sure this tired self doesn’t oversleep, I set the alarm, so this daily cycle of which I am proud (and somewhat repulsed) to be champion might repeat, again, and again.

I see myself a very clever and determined machine. I know success to the right may be failure to the left. I know this is a passage, not a destination. I’ve got the muscle; I’ll climb this mountain.

Poignant, however: telling, however: the alarm I set was never “started”, so could not wake me, yet even though I didn’t hit that switch, I woke exactly at the hour I had set, startled to think I’d overslept, rueful to recognize I had not.

There is something disappointing, if not disastrous, in being chained this way to time. I’m afraid that something precious — certainly more precious than gold, a cold stone that can sink you as fast as Virginia in her swirling river — is being lost in minutes, hours, life, and I know it to be irretrievable.

Nevertheless.

Here I am, sun in the sky, breakfast waiting, and the tasks at hand impatient for my attention. I trust they will wait while I prepare the day; I’m glad I have experienced the farmer’s labor, so this harvest time arrives to the heart as no surprise.

~

“…” by Faruk Taskini @ DeviantArt.com

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