5.55

5.55: I’m looking at the digital readout of the clock beside my bed; trying to make out the time displayed. Head on the pillow; viewing the world, sideways, through sleep laden eyes. In my awakening mind it reads SSS and is telling me to go back to sleep, it’s not six am, it’s too early for my mind to start the day yet. Or am I still dreaming? Dreaming about small ducks on a pond; three little ducks, 5 5 5, travelling across the calm, flat surface of the water. Serene and graceful, barely a ripple, hardly disturbing the surface but paddling frantically beneath the water line. Am I seeing myself? Serene on the surface but paddling like mad underneath; keeping up with the current; trying to move forward; get ahead.

5.56: Time is always moving forward; relentless; unstoppable; towards infinity. Time on your hands, time of your life, time to grow up, time to grow old, making time, spending time, losing time, half time, full-time, no time, anytime.

5.57: Old father time standing beside me, sickle in hand, sand slipping through his hour glass, his beard growing longer each minute; waiting; biding his time, marching forward, not stopping.

5.58: Another minute gone, swallowed up, lost, never to be recovered, never repeated, on this day, in this week, in this year, in this decade, in this century, ever.

5.59: Holding on, still sleeping, not yet waking, still dreaming, no hopes and dreams, no fears and worries, nothing breaking the surface, not coming into view through the fog, still at peace, relaxed.

6.00 Dammed alarm.

© 2012 Steve Cripwell, All rights reserved

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