Whispers of Time

We are, all of us, guided by forces unknown; voices on the wind that persist even in stillness. The person yet to be, destiny, awaits.

 

Time finds a way; its will is indomitable. From our births, it watches, whispers, plans. Ears not attuned enough to hear, eyes not focussed enough to see. Patterns forming; webbed branches spanning Yggdrasil our own; we are but explorers, climbing and collecting on our adventures. From accumulations hindsight forms and through metacognition, a map can be drawn; a series of events, some fortunate, some less so, to create us.

 

Thinking back, tracing effect and cause, the past begets the future. Wading the waves, lives undone, we begin to see the meander. From babe to child, nature and nurture fight to shape the malleable form but both kneel to Time, its word becomes lore, the mould is created. Time and tides carry us forward but looking back we hear its call; what once went unheard, unintelligible, becomes decipherable; a Rosetta of shifting sands, open to interpretation. 

 

Trekking through life, we cross many roads, intersections at every choice; Time's whispers provide direction not answers nor orders, fate ours our own. As we grow, we become ourselves, perfect for that purpose; venturing forth, following the sound of the greatest known unknown. Because, we are, all of us, guided by forces unknown; voices on the wind that persist even in stillness. The person yet to be, destiny, awaits.