Clock: (n) a mechanical or electrical device for measuring time

Tick-tock.

Actually, I’ve never heard a clock do a “tock.” But many times, one has ticked me off.

I hate time–even though I have to admit the word “hate” is a rather vicious and overwrought expression. But the extreme dislike I have for the confinement of minutes and hours does threaten to become hateful.

Time never fulfills. The clock never has just the right amount to offer. There’s either too much time, which lends itself to all sorts of buffoonery and mistakes, or there’s too little time, and worry and fussiness set in, creating an old man or woman out of the youngest soul.

Occasionally I abandon the clock. I pretend it doesn’t exist. I wait for the sunrise to alert me of the day and the sunset to inform me of the need for an evening meal.

Yet that simple approach is quickly overtaken by the brattiness of responsibility.

Still, all in all, the clock doesn’t tell the time–it shows it. What will prove the value of my journey, the depth of my soul and the worth of my efforts?

Well, in that case, time will tell.