The hands of time had held me from conception; I knew the corrosive touch of time before I even knew the caring touch of my mother. To be held by the hands of time is to be held by death, for time is death working in slow motion. Every day since my birth the hands of time awake me with its aging touch just to wear me down.
One day I got tired of the hands of time suffocating hold, tired of time wearing me down, tired of waiting for time to pronounce me dead, so I started to wrestle myself free of the hands of time.
But the more I tried to wrestle myself free from the hands of time, the more suffocating its hold became. As its hold tightened around me, I began to lose consciousness until I fell into a state of silent stillness, where there were neither thinking thoughts nor ticking time.
Within this state of silent stillness, space and time collapsed and I saw my past and future wrapped around each other like a helix that shared the DNA of the same present now. I saw last now, this now and next now existing as an infinite spectrum of the same now.
Though I was dying from the suffocating hold of the hands of time, for the first time in my life I felt free of time.
But this sense of freedom was suddenly disrupted by the return of thinking thoughts which was accompanied by ticking time.
I was still alive, still wrestling with time, and still determined to be free from it. so I grabbed at the face of time and within the grip on my hand I held the surprise of a mask.
As I stared at the unmasked face of time, I was forced to accept the shocking discovery, that all along I was wrestling with my own mind: the only clock that exists in life.
VoiceOfAnOutlier 