Time speaks

So you think you are my master, do you?

Just by virtue of having trapped me into a little gadget that you have attached, like a leash, to your wrist? I tell you, your ancestors feared me; they were unable to break me up into hours, minutes and seconds with the consummate ease that has been your contribution to the world, and yet they knew that I was on their side.

You, on the other hand, have no such assurance.



Nor do you want any.

You persist in believing that you are in control of me. That you have somehow been blessed with permanence. That you are here to stay.

And all the time, I have the power to twist your fate with a snap of my fingers.



My greatest gift to you is the gift of Today. These 86,400 seconds that you can use the way you want to. No one can buy this gift from me. No matter what your age or socio-economic background, this is the gift I bring to you. What you do with it is your gift to yourself.


I bring you your life’s experiences in bite-sized pieces, so you can chew and savour them to the fullest. Were it not for me, these experiences would come crushing down upon you, and leave you feeling either too numb or overfed.

With so much to give you, I still give you the freedom to decide what you want to do with me. Personally I prefer to be spent well, even squandered, in acts and actions that bring real joy to your heart. Those are the actions that you won’t regret when you see the hourglass nearly full, with almost no sand left to tip over.

But you don’t learn. Only your children treat me well. They live in the here and now.


You think you have the last laugh on me. After all, you alone, among all living beings on earth, have the power to kill me every day. What you don’t realize is that when you seek to kill me, you only injure yourself, your possibilities and your potential. You watch me trickle away, minute by minute, and then you are shocked to realize that whole years have gone by.

All the time, I work smoothly, behind the scenes, noiselessly. Until you suddenly realize with a gasp of disbelief that it is almost closing time, and you’ve whittled away the precious currency you started off with.



There are so many ways in which you try to cheat me. When you put things off for the morrow. When you waste time in useless things, that bring you neither joy nor peace. When you seek to hurry through certain experiences in order to save time.

You fail to realize that I am not in your employ. You are my subjects, powerless as I impose my will upon you. 

Unable to stop yourself from being altered by me, bit by bit.

Pliant, as I teach you the lessons you need to learn. 

Impotent, as I strip you of so many things that you thought were yours to keep.


Sometimes you attribute magical powers to me. You think that I heal all wounds, when the truth is that your memory becomes too blunt to hold on to the sharp pangs of grief.

But there is one kind of magic I do have. That is the magic of measuring your life and helping you to realize that you are but a dot in the mighty scheme of things. For I have borne witness to the moon and the stars, the mountains and the dust. I have always been and always will be.

You will not.

Better use me well.