Continuance

Arousing the Hourglass...What does it all mean?

This question was asked of me by a very close friend of mine and the answer...I did not have. So, I have begun to ponder this catechism and decided I would take this ride on the proverbial mental wave with anyone who would like to join me.

Is it the tickling of Father Times' beard? Enticing the caress of each hand from the clock? Yielding to its presence and control over my existence? Exciting the possibilities of "anything can happen" or "just around the corner?" Or, maybe, it was what I thought of as I observed my shape within the shadow of the flame.

Every form of "time telling" has been intriguing for as long as I can remember. When I was younger, I would sketch all sorts of shapes and images of time. The hourglass was my favorite. It is amazing what chassis you can bring in and pull out of an hourglass. Now, as the years have gone by, the images have changed and become darker and caused some discomfort where once I found peace and clarity.

So, maybe that is it. Maybe what I am doing is taunting time like a child taunts his mother or, in this case, taunts the only father she ever knew. Could it be that "Taunting the Hourglass" would be more accurate?

All this considered, I am sure you will see a side of this woman where"Arousing the Hourglass" will eventually make sense. Although, Freud would declare it already does.

Inconversable

There's an hour in the early morning when the world falls completely silent. So inhibited that to disturb this kind of quiet could be considered a sin.
During this time, I often forget, pulling my sliding glass door open in a fashion I am accustom to in the daylight hours. The sound which, at the time, seems like a mack truck barreling it's way down a pothole ridden roadway. This sound YELLS back at me, startling and causes a tremble to run down my spine. Catching my "bull in a china shop" way of doing things, I slow the speed to a dancers grace and step gingerly out onto my lanai.
Closing the door behind me, I sit, knees together, lowering myself to the chair, and placing my cup of gorgeous brunet on the table beside me. I pull open my pack of cigarettes, pick up my lighter and strike...This curbed time allows for no repeats in the case. If it were to fail in igniting, that would be the end of that attempt. However, luckily for me, the flame comes and as I hush the butane exhaust, I inhale and close my eyes.
In this moment, there is only a single car which hums its way across the pavement 5 miles down the hill...
Yes, it is this quiet.