Tempus

I can hear the rain rattling on the roof like a skeleton dancing a demented jig. I'm guessing that the wind is blowing "the other way", as I can't hear it against the window.

I can also hear raucous voices some way off, what sounds like next door running up and down their landing, and the clock ticking away to itself downstairs. I'd speed that one up, if I could.

I gave my word not to try to mess with passage of time and I'll stand by that. Sixty seconds will always go together to make up a minute, however long they take to roll by.  I'll relish the minutes and hours that pass by faster than a shadow, treasuring every breath that fills them. And I'll silently count away the morose, shuffling hours and days, watching with infinite patience the spectacle of the second hand dragging itself around and around.

I have seen the future and it is a wonderful place. Sometimes it seems so close. Other times, less so.