Time regained

excerpt from an upcoming work in progress

The last two years have been weird in that regard, when usually I start to feel remorse or pathos or wisftul yearning for more or that word which I can’t remember now, blimey, can’t seem to remember a lot of things these days, the thirst for a few more days or weeks time that we may get to live some more time in this span—a poignant reverie? I do not know how or what to feel really you know the last two years whether I should feel bad for the time itself, pity ourselves or must we rejoice in its passing, oh finally, that it is done and we may now get over the horrors and trauma and the sadness towards something not solemn and not full of suffering and loss? Despite feeling older and yet it doesn’t seem fair to move the needle of time forward. It is never too late to be what you might have been May the good times come now, arrive again upon this place, eh, but what of the time we have gone through and lost, we may have learned a lot, all there is to, and grown as people, and struggled and languished. Languished. Yes, we have languished this year of all years, amidst the vicissitudes of subsisting, and our dithering therein, there has been mere stagnant state of being when time seemed frozen and constant where we failed to make any strides where our ambitions and desires may not have gotten their due, we may have been reduced to simply surviving (yes, celebrate that), not doing much, of anything really, just coasting through the days, hoping we will probably make it out alive, and that is just okay, this time was different, than the others, for during other times we may have had the luxury of attempting, and then either failing or succeeding our hand at our plays, this time we did not and that it is just as well okay because all that mattered was to go on and merely survive and those who did succeed in their endeavours oh boy got lucky or congratulations you made it pat yourself on the back, others we can do the same as well for seeing through our days and trying, to make the best of it. And we can be grateful for the opportunity, as we witness it all unravel befuddled grappling with grief and quandary we saw, we read and we heard and are left all alone with any incumbent choice but to go ahead. It’s alright. Isn’t it getting better? Yes. I wasn’t much of a voyager, but now realise there’s a whole world out there to explore ain’t that something? And wonder when I could at least scrape the surface of that vastitude, eh and there’s probably a need to care for myself as much as each other, as self indulgent and solipsistic as that may seem, this may stem out of a need for self preservation. And how might I try then to distribute that to the community, I suppose should be okay? After all one cannot participate in life’s drama without their own sanity and health being in their place as starkly as we have been reminded. But how could I make sense of the passage spent muddling along aimlessly, wherein as precious as time is we weren’t left with much liberty to exercise it in ways that might otherwise have been different, come to terms with the time we thought we’re left with lost time yet again, or what might come of that which was not experienced but trifled with? Do we feel accomplished or wisftful of the span we passed through kicking and alive now, but left with vivid images to remind us of the months, some that we prefer not to play again. Such tragedy. And the learning that came with immense unbidden crisis. And let us go forth then as we cope, that we lost an uncountable number of people, and resources, the world could indeed have had better use for, and probably needed, to make it a better place, is in part the harshness of stochasticity driven inadvertent disasters that no prescient preparation could subvert. Some of us reeling by nonplussed that we did in fact, make it. Some of us even had, having to spend time with no company but our own, a rude shock of discovering that we weren’t as comfortable in the companionship of our solitude, as we might’ve liked to be—weell that’s gotta suck and good luck to those who do work their ways outta that. If last time it was the doomsyear that got us riled up with life in ways we couldn’t imagine, this one was a lot of things, it was a rollercoaster I don’t know if any other previously lived year could match this one’s what’s to say unpredictability and uncertainty, things got worse then still worser then slightly better then worse then the worst and better and still better and then worser and okay, a sinusoidal inflection of eventfulness and transience that was reflected in the amount of emotional impulses that were triggered and felt deep within and out. But still, to survive and talk about it must be something herculean ye mighty haughty and gleeful but it ain’t though, it’s just another probabilistic outcome, and things may very well have gone south quick, we just got the chance of luck that the odds were in our favour contingent on our time and place, and nobody deserves anything different than the other. That we may now be more conscientious and empathise and kinder and be better people is a change that if not for these times we could have cared less about, at least for those frozen hearts and arid uncompassionate or insular souls shrunken, might not have awakened some semblance of liminal change within to the melting point that they might now sublimate within the privacy of their souls, we ourselves may feel a bit less ashamed of our own being fraught with vulnerability and tribulation when we may cross paths with someone greater who having endured convalescently ineffable times has the temerity to plough forth in their tremulous boats launching against the relentless remorseless sea when even if our treacherous paths may mangle into epitaphic epithets and wrecks hearkened by none we may find in some unbeknownst solace the insouciant grit that in our betrothed future we shall reckon for a fleeting moment their indefatigable spirits on this inexorable journey; those virtues that seem to percolate through the skin unto the profoundly absurd times when those truths coming through so resplendent, vices insomuch have turned nought to rust, just as we might beguiled by the subtle unapparent glidings of the sea, as the ungirdled currents sift while the monsters rumble beneath the azure tints in their devilish brilliance ferrying their dainty embellished countenances, for the zillionth tribes in perpetual warfare preying cannibalistic upon lesser mortals shackled cycling and recycling their marrows for one another; or the dainty green moorlands and the verdant docile earth, almost pithy, seem timid as one shrouds the other outlasting everlong, pitted against each other, that which evolved over millenia of fecundity and fruition provides us with, siphoned off in synapses of lapses by the tentacles of their entrapments shall even one day pullulate sacraments as the mighty Himalayas with ye fossils; wherein do you see the horrors of the departed lives latching us onto the spans that shall indeed be looming and our past might even be found so comforting? whence left with those vestiges that rekindle images of a distant life, splurge sans any efforts, or traverse the long span of half a century and sift through moments that had gradually faded those ancient moments which were once the present, to this life catalyzed by the vagaries of today, so different, where barely anything remains of the yore, except perhaps a certain idiosyncratic trait and such feeling that was perhaps felt ere when we were younger full of strength, and reckless, to return to those visuals aren’t we endowed with the blessing of memory which, faster than electricity, circles the earth and the entrails of empirical existence, that could be summoned at such will without the need to notice even if a second had passed, so too shall in our souls be found that microcosm ye flickering light that is domiciled and susceptible ever to the whims of the noxious interminable maelstorm harpooning at its periphery that encompasses the reality of experience we must encounter forever to reincarnate the unbridled embryonic hearts of this species. Well, at least that’s as as much as I can tell these immured beings while they attempt to keep ploughing their way ahead. As you are now so once were we.