Time
is the hunter, painting the leaves with color, and my face with lines. It takes me by the hand and walks me along an
uneven curb, knowing eventually I'll slip.
It is up to me to focus on balance, to be sure of each step before it is
taken.
It is
on a windy hilltop this morning where I set upon this folding chair, my
keyboard perched on this wobbly tray, and I type a few stray thoughts. The first being that I should have brought a
cushion, for it is the comfort level of this chair that will determine the
duration of this essay.
The
outward eye would have me write of flowers, Elms or the fluttering bustle that
is this hilltop rush hour. Brilliant
reds, and muted auburn's fall and dance past my drab shoes.
Although
beautiful, I do not pause at this canvas, for it remains my inward eye that
sees beyond color, and movement. Even
here, in the midst of Nature, I find that I contemplate the plight of Man, the
ills of society, and I question, as have you, the mysterious edge of infinity.
Today
I set out to explore that which extends just beyond the edge, casting light
upon regions too often left to shadows.
It will be my attempt to extrapolate from existing data, not falling
short of creating a blend of educated conjecture into a comprehensive picture of
the unknown.
I
really do need to go and get a cushion, however, so I'll work on this a little
later.
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