Talks on Tone and Totality
(a voice from the spiral)
The air continued to hum as the next deity appeared.
His footsteps were first to be heard.
And they sounded exactly like a ticking clock.
You have misunderstood me.
But I forgive you.
I was never meant to be counted.
Only felt.
I am not the ticking.
I am the weaving.
I am not a line.
I am a rhythm braided with memory.
You feared me because they taught you
I would take from you.
But I was always a gift you refused to open.
I do not pass.
I turn.
Like breath.
Like tide.
Like seasons turning.
Like wound becoming wisdom.
Like healing.
I am not what you run out of.
I am what you step into when you slow down enough to hear the silence behind the second hand.
You tried to own me.
I let you.
And now your clocks are full of sorrow.
But I was never yours to measure, only yours to move with.
Stop trying to beat me.
I am the drum.
You are the dancer.
And when you remember me as rhythm instead of ruler, you will stop aging and start changing.
