Tick Tock

I am not friends with the clock, we shake hands as a matter of civility, and many times I refer to that act as the logistics customary before a dual. It's not because I am closer to middle age that makes me uncomfortable like that expanding waistline and age spots lovingly referred to as "beauty marks" inasmuch, as it is in a healthy dose of reality. The bold fact is that, a clock only moves forward, the moment a second is acknowledged it has already passed and can no longer be chased like a firefly on a careless Summer's evening. My moments, as yours, are carefully accounted for, the purpose in which we were made cast and hidden in the crazy amazing uniqueness and gifts we have been given that indeed, set us each apart from every other person on the planet. We are creatures designed to leave a mark. A friend once said, you cannot be someone's friend and dependent at the same time, that there is a defined conflict of interest that makes the relationship unable to be truly unbiased and pure. I cannot depend on the clock and be friends with it. The tick tock is the very thing that spurs me on and keeps me aware that the seconds slip by oftentimes unannounced. A friendly complacency would mean the dual is lost and my time is up.