Are you living?
If you stretch out your arms and touch the cool glass of the hourglass, then you will understand. You will know enough, then, to open your eyes and see the convulsed warped reflection of your face on the wall of the curvaceous bubble you’re in. You’ll feel the sand trickling onto your head or down your back, rebounding off your skull to drift down and cover your toes like sun-kissed snow. It’s piling you, you see—but then, of course it would. Such is life.
You can measure how quickly the sand rains down on you and smothers your feet, but you don’t know exactly how much sand is left. And neither can you be sure if a hand will materialize out of the ether to turn you upside-down and give you another chance, like a powerful drug that pulls you up from the sickbed.
Consider this.
If there is no hand to flip the hourglass—and if there is no more sand to fall, no more room to fill—if your time is up by midnight tonight, will you have lived? Perhaps life is indeed not the number of breaths or grains of sand, but the patterns that our breath forms on the glass, the designs we sculpt with the sand, the alchemy we create with the few possessions we find ourselves given. Live each day as if your sand is ending, your glass is filling, your time is passing. Treat everyone as if you would be dead by the morrow. Live to the fullest—and your life will be changed forever.
Are you living? Or merely alive?"Angreek87"
No comments:
Post a Comment