Decades
later, I feel the weight of years I scarcely noticed gathering quietly. The dreams
that once shouted with urgency now whisper in a language I must strain to
understand. I had an epiphany: the clock never sped up. I simply stopped
ignoring it and started hearing every tick and tock.
In
all this, I’ve watched many friends and family pass to the other side. For
those still walking this earth, their dark hair has surrendered to silver. I
have witnessed lovers who promised each other forever only to become strangers
before the hour has fully turned. A hospital corridor clock clicked through a
long night while life quietly slipped from present into memory. Memories blur
and soften, but the clock remains precise and unwavering.
You
see, we rage against time, but it is indifferent. We bargain, plead, or
sometimes pretend not to hear it. But time does not negotiate. Unlike Dorian
Gray, whose portrait absorbed the cost of time, we are doomed to carry ours in
plain sight. The mirror, time’s quiet accomplice, equally grants no mercy. When
you make the mistake of checking yourself in the mirror, there is no comfort
there, only the quiet confirmation of clock hands that never stop moving. Each
line you see on your face, and each bone that aches or cracks when you stand or
stretch, is the time’s unmistakable signature.
If
you are still young and are still wrapped in the illusion of invincibility, here
this: the clock does not wait. It offers no extensions to the late bloomer and
no grace period for hesitation. It ticks whether you resent its haste or revere
its lessons. Life rarely announces its turning points; it simply moves forward
while you are still deciding.
Though
time is linear, the tragedy is not reaching your final hour. It is arriving
there without having truly lived because you allowed fear, distraction or pride
to steal the moments meant to matter. Moments of connection. Moments that ask
nothing more than your presence. The clock keeps count; we decide what counts.
So,
on this day, I stand in front of the mirror not in denial but in acceptance. I
bow down and kiss the ring, acknowledging that the clock does not wait. It
never has. It never will. Yet time’s indifference is not cruelty, it is simply
the condition of life. Within its unyielding rhythm lies something
extraordinary, the space to choose. Either to grieve what slips away or cherish
what remains. Either to curse the ticking away of time or dance while the music
still plays. However, what we cannot keep, we can still honour. Hold a hand
without hurry. Notice each breath while it is still yours. Give your day to
what really matters.
May
your years ahead be measured not merely in time passed, but in moments deeply
lived. Like the love boldly given, beauty intentionally noticed or courage
quietly practiced. May you dance while the music plays and recognize the melody
while it still plays.
The
clock doesn’t wait.
Neither
should you.