Anyway this blog entry is just for showing off a piece of prose I wrote a few months back. It's about Time.
========================================
Father Old Time is a butterfly. He flits by so surreptitiously, lightly flapping and brushing past your shoulder without you noticing. He appears insignificant, but if you pay attention you’ll notice the striking patterns on the wings – by then, however, it would probably have flitted past out of your reach. When you are lucky and manage to grasp it in your hands, the moment you begin admiring the sheer magnificence of its shape, colour and form it slowly withers away and then crumbles into dust, leaving behind ashes that gently scatter into the air, pulled higher and farther by the wind, passing into oblivion…
This, is Time.
========================================
No comments:
Post a Comment