So much of life seems like sleepwalking.
Change the sheets.
Call the doctor.
Buy more stamps.
Make more plans.
Call the chaplain.
Pick your coffin.
Ticking all the boxes, another list appears. A new calendar comes. Time goes ever on. And to what purpose, to what aim?
In the past few days, the past few months, the past few years, have I ever been awake? Mere minutes perhaps?
Time goes so quickly, the end is racing near. Years are but moments. The happy and the sad times, Spring’s new lease on life and Autumn’s dying song. What is their sum?
There has to be more. Dear God, let there be more. Even the sweetest gifts on Earth leave me craving more.
More. More. That’s what I’m after. There must be more. For this world won’t satisfy me, time never fills. I must be made for more- a truer, sweeter place. A time beyond all time. If only someone would wake me from this sleepwalk- so I could get back home.
But you’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker. So I go trudging on.