I almost don’t make it. I’d been running for so long I’d forgotten what it was like to stand still.
There comes a time when, if we’ve done all that we can, that we simply cannot do any more. All things must end, as all things are in a constant state of ending. We are transformed by time, by each passing moment. We are not who we were a second ago, nor the world around us either. Existence is transformation. We are only here to record it, forget it, and then be forgotten. We march with inexorable determination toward dissolution.
But I make it, because I run.
First draft: 141025
Published: 230616