Often we sadly, sit slumped and awaiting times dispatch, pronouncing our gray disposition of day if you please,

Oft yes, our days of passage are marked and etched in equable are they not? Detecting little turn nor variation in the way in which time blows over us daily, as wind, caressing our very nature.

Does indeed life drape change about or upon us, or do we rather invoke change upon her, I ask this day resting in time? Surely life offers us hardship often, standing tall outside of our realm of choice, or ability to incur change, or dissuade her telling course, example death!

Yet with that said, I feel it is we, who create change in life! Yes, we alone, who invoke change upon the brow of times passage and movement.

Often we sadly, sit slumped and awaiting times dispatch, pronouncing our gray disposition of day if you please, when in fact it is we, who should be invoking our will, dreams and desire upon her!

Yes, time merely passes daily, other that this fact realized by most all, she holds no power nor might in her right hand nor left, for that matter. If life skates and parades by us unannounced, or if she marks her passage in mundane and blah, it remains our task, call and charge, to alter the morrow by the handiwork of our own hands and hearts.

Time has no power but to march on in equity bestowed upon all! She marks yes our visage and carriage with her turns, roads and paths taken, yet none can escape this, I say bravo! Equality at last! For yes, only this fact remains equal for all in life, yes, times passing. Neither can the poor beg pity, nor can the wealthy nor influential, alter, bribe, nor muscle her will.

Aside from time daily raking, inscribing and etching agedness upon the crown of our heads, resting in pinnacled vanity, other than this stroke representing her scent, she holds no power nor ability beyond this!

We need not give her a wide berth, for she walks not as a god, she merely passes, for no more can she do. She is not to be revered, esteemed, worshiped nor feared, for her passage is benign, where the heart, soul and spirit are concerned.

No, my friend, time holds not us, in the palm of her hand! But counterwise I state this day! We hold her in the palm of ours, to turn her, to alter her, to make her our friend. It is we who can conquer and dictate the disposition of her entrance and ushering in upon the morrow.

Time remains our servant and friend, allowing us a bright myriad of choices to make, while giving us almost complete artistic license as well. We can meet time on the battle field of the morrow, either as the defeated or the victors, the choice remains ours, we can fear her or embrace her, but either way, she shall still come visiting daily, in her Paul Revere passage, riding by in quick glimpse form.

Time marks only the outward carriage and visage in her walk, she cannot mar, taint nor touch, our heart soul and essence, for our spirit remains outside her grasp and reach, for time remains as merely wind, blowing endlessly and eternally, impacting and touching only the outside of our carriage, form and frame.

So, if time is no enemy, to my day dreams or desire, who then is it I ask, that holds the reigns to such things? By enlarge it remains us I fear, no other indeed! For we are our own worst enemies running rampant, in hamster wheel fashion and form.

So the day remains then ours, does it not? To unfold as we do so deem, in whatever fashion we expect, choose, implement, create or launch, it is our choice, dictated by desire toppled, or reigning high. We can launch our hopes and dreams upon the dawn of tomorrow, or we can await the fate of time to dictate our course.

But why wait on her? Because friend...... she's waiting on us!