time (a somewhat prosaic short essay)

Time is a thing of wonder, beauty even. We are traveling down its one way street, sometimes oblivious, sometimes we feel it’s passage deeply. And yet, after all these years, all this time, we still don’t take it at face value. We mope about the past and worry ourselves sick over the future, not realizing that time spent doing this is time we can use to repair mistakes we made in the past or prepare for the future. Until someone invents time travel, we can’t fix the burnt bridges of the past, and we have to cross the bridges of the future when we get to them. We have to live in the now, the split second of time we have at our disposal.


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