The clock marks the flow of time,
A circle of segmented reminders
Seconds become minutes, minutes merge into hours
Every day the sun rises, and usual routines fill up our calendars
Each innocuous day adds up to months, years into decades,
Instance by instance, layer after layer,
Time moves ever so smoothly, a continuous river
Never stopping, never pausing
The lull of seamless sequencing
An unsuspecting mind holds on to an image
And yet a sudden revelation of age
The grey strands that show up one morning from nowhere
A slight paunch that refuses to go anywhere
Eyes that miss the fine print, one fine day
That sudden onset of decay
Age, a discontinuous awareness.
A grudging acceptance
The pushing game of peaks and plateaus
An invitation to mature,
To shake off the illusion of repair
To see through the myth of reversal
To embrace the illusion of renewal.
The youngest cell in my body is but a few seconds old
The oldest may be seven years, I am told
Did any carry over intact from the womb?
Every second a cell dies, a thought dies and an idea is put to a tomb;
A new cell is born, new thoughts bombard and ideas survive
Age, an ambiguous, a non parametric premise
With infinite possibilities and a singular promise
Continuity of each moment alive
Cell by cell, breath by breath,
Continuity of a discontinuous life.