I have always been fascinated with the idea of time. A few days ago I was watching the "Theory of Everything" at a friend's place and though the movie captures the subtle complexities of relationships. it also works well to capture the moment of discovery. For me personally the fascination of time didn't come with the first copy of "A Brief History of Time", it came with understanding that time in it's own way is the surpassing dimension that is untethered, and yet in our own minds we have learned how to weigh time differently. We have not come far from relating to a definition of time that is both personal as well as universal and yet we have aspired for just the same. In the long lasting notion of momentarity, I wonder if we look at the passing away of such a time, and we will call the phenomenon as "memory"
Time
A time will come when the written things have been all written about,
When the thoughts walk slowly back to me, instead of running in my head
And when the passing away of things comes from a journey you have been in and around,
But someplace where you wouldn't stop, and you wouldn't rest instead
There are only so many minutes a day, you will count them but with no regret,
You have written them all down, every minute of them, so that you will never forget
So tell me know what you value more, the time itself or your memory?
Because one flows in a direction we find, and the other lets you go on past retreats.
We many not find the perfect journey still, the best time travelers travel in their minds,
They recreate what could not have been captured perfectly & yet they are but one of a kind
I speak off course of memories, of faded pages, telephone books & pictures in a box,
Of things that have traveled with our without you, the ones we know we have never lost
I am challenged by time, I seek to understand what drives the constant ticking of the clock?
Where does the nature of time run out, is it just in the moment when & where we decide to stop?
I have not placed bets with the future me, I have hardly begun to hit rewind,
For now my memory serves me still, where I can travel in lost things and forgotten time.
Time
A time will come when the written things have been all written about,
When the thoughts walk slowly back to me, instead of running in my head
And when the passing away of things comes from a journey you have been in and around,
But someplace where you wouldn't stop, and you wouldn't rest instead
There are only so many minutes a day, you will count them but with no regret,
You have written them all down, every minute of them, so that you will never forget
So tell me know what you value more, the time itself or your memory?
Because one flows in a direction we find, and the other lets you go on past retreats.
We many not find the perfect journey still, the best time travelers travel in their minds,
They recreate what could not have been captured perfectly & yet they are but one of a kind
I speak off course of memories, of faded pages, telephone books & pictures in a box,
Of things that have traveled with our without you, the ones we know we have never lost
I am challenged by time, I seek to understand what drives the constant ticking of the clock?
Where does the nature of time run out, is it just in the moment when & where we decide to stop?
I have not placed bets with the future me, I have hardly begun to hit rewind,
For now my memory serves me still, where I can travel in lost things and forgotten time.
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