It is time.
That time again.
To make a choice.
That choice that will change things.
Will change you.
And yet feels so familiar.
Stacking toy blocks high.
Without cement.
So when they fall.
They can be built again.
Possibly in some other form.
Different.
If not exactly the same.
The chance of falling down again.
To be made a new.
A child without the skills.
May never lay stable foundations.
Unless they learn to grow.
Can I grow beyond myself by merely standing still?
Or through perpetual motion?
Full system restore.
Back to the time when time's concept was learning to toddle.
Will it feel the same with aged legs?
To learn again.
By Moving on.
Or by sheer avoidance.
All that existed lay wasted.
Neglected like an infant temper tantrum
Within a crowded place.
Shall I strike the baby.
With hope that fear will cease the spectacle?
Yet in all fairness will cause no resolve.
But turmoil beyond conditioning.
The problem can be solved.
Although a time consuming task.
May enlighten those unsure of their own past.
And change the way it can be seen today.
Craft tools that can sustain a life.
And nurture all that are subdued.
Proving that not all who frighten you.
Deserve to be abused.
Time has told me.
Change lay open to interpretation.
And can adapt to the most unforeseeable of forms.
If orange hid within apple’s skin.
Would the taste disgust or allure?
To expect that which is unlabeled.
Would be to lead a boundless life.
Choices may flow against the tide.
Scale uncharted territory.
And fashion a way through fire.
Through battle will provide.
A haeven to reside.
Yet there is nowhere to hide.
To shield what lives inside.
Tic Toc.
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