The Battery of Perpetual Motion
The Ticking begins…
In my mind and in my thoughts, all that I can see are images of pseudo-humans. Take the schema of a human body and convert it to a faint semi-transparent model in your mind.
These were the type of figures that I viewed that eternal night
within my sleep.
They walked underground waiting for the subway to arrive.
Many with briefcases in hand, marched and paced around aimlessly. I sharply took notice to something that these characters all had in common.
Every one of these human-like characters, had wristwatches
upon their arms emanating faint ticking sounds.
My eyes shifted to the lights of the approaching subway.
Immediately I noticed some of these invisible tinted men lying flat
upon the tracks; yet these individuals wore watches where time had apparently ceased.
As the sounds of the friction between the tracks and the wheels of the Metro 'tick-tocked' its way into my subconscious, my train of thought also shifted.
I focused randomly upon a period within my youth when I would go to the park on a regular basis.
As I seemed to recall they were exceptional and irreplaceable moments.
Every day after school, I met up with my friends in the park to play basketball at four. On my way down to the courts, I noticed each day without failure, an old man in his late nineties sitting on a bench feeding the crows with his back to the ocean.
I would pass this man for weeks on end without sharing a word, until one day I stumbled accidentally, over his shoes.
I looked to him and expressed my most sincere apologies.
From that point on, a conversation began that would later shape the outcome my life.
He spoke of his being,
and his past experiences.
He explained to me things that he would have done differently if he were my age, and told me of the things he was happy that he had achieved.
Every day after that, I would stop and converse with this elderly gentleman for hours, learning ways to save time and make progress in life.
I never had seen my own grandfathers, and in some way,
this man took their place.
The Ticking continued…
In shifting once again,
I noticed in the tunnel, that at different times, without failure these faded men would fall. Suddenly it occurred to me, as if it were secretly yet purposefully whispered into my ear, that upon the birth of life for these men, the first day of their respective deaths,
was also established.
It then dawned on me that they ran about carrying with them a symbol to measure their own mortality, upon their wrists. These non-people were making appointments that would occupy yet another year, in the 100 that they might have had the option of living.
Each second bringing them one step closer to everything
and nothing all at once.
My attention seemed to wander as it would when a song is stuck in your head, yet this time the tune was that of the second hand to my own timepiece, which seemed to be ticking faster than usual.
My soul began to race as I instinctually prepared to defend myself against a force that had the aura of a thief with no body, who was sent to take me away. My neurosynapses fired as the next scene unfolded before my eyes.
I saw that old man on the bench again.
Except this time I looked closer, and the morals I learned were no longer the focus of his existence.
For this time I focused in on his face, and saw to my deathly surprise, none other than my own image.
Tears began to flow from my eyes and intoxicated my new reality. My hands were wrinkled as they tossed seeds upon the ground to the vivacious and ravenous birds. In that state I began to think about my life and the ghosts in the subway terminal.
I reasoned that indeed one’s objective should be to enjoy life as a whole, and not to concentrate on any single stress
at hand.
We are much too often stuck in the Now rather than focused on the Becoming.
For Time heals all that has been marred with wounds, and in the end, generously removes the soul from your struggling body, like the ejection of an obsolete game cartridge from an old entertainment system.
I remembered a time when I was a child and I wanted answers to questions I had not thought of. In that state, I had not the strength or the mind to think of examining the mysterious stones that lay before me. I had not the muscles to push the rocks over to see what indeed lie underneath them as they rested upon the grass.
As I grew older the questions came to me more quickly, for my environment was strong, and my family gracious with support. I in turn, also became strong in mind and body. This strength allowed me to move the stones, and later the boulders, that would reveal the potential answers to my unspoken questions; only to find more questions to my own answers.
Soon the lights began to flash upon the process of attaining true comprehension.
Truly the more strength I gained the more I understood, and the more I realized that indeed I knew very little, of something much more.
I recalled a time at the park, where I stood at the free throw line attempting to match my opponent in our game of “horse.” Prior to letting go of the ball, I remember pausing to watch the Sunset, an event that even the old man would turn his head for.
That summer I watched about 100 sunsets, noting in full detail how each one made me feel.
Suddenly, I felt my hands cool, as the sky began to darken around me. I realized that the Sun was about to set once again.
The seeds all rushed out of my hands and the vultures began intensely poking at my lap and my flesh with their beaks to clean-up the unexpected failure in operation, as if I were an inviting park statue, enlaced in available tissue. I could see from the corner of my eye, adolescents staring into the dimming light of the sky, upon the soccer field to my right.
Suddenly I recognized that for some reason, soon to be mortally apparent, I would be unable to turn my head around to experience the event that I had witnessed for so many years on end.
No longer could I stand. No longer could I run into the ocean wearing nothing but my goose bumps. No longer could I get on a plane,
packing nothing but a smile.
No longer could I tell my family,
that I love them.
I did,
love them.
I saw that in this moment, it was indeed the last minute of my life; where all I had now, were the experiences that I had dared to venture to this moment.
There were to be no new occurrences, except for the inevitable coming of the end to all actualization of my own physical and mental potential.
I hypothesized that in my life I would be happy if I had made few enemies. That I had loved many and most; that I learned, taught, and gave to my surroundings; that I had brought up a good family; that I had raised brave resourceful children whom I knew would be able to successfully raise good children of their own; for I would soon live within their blood.
These children would be the only link likely to speak of my dreams and my philosophies, of my loves and my goals, of my experiences and my soul. For these thoughts, to my successors, would be alive in their minds. I imagined that indeed I had a tool case of knowledge and answers to questions that I rationalized from other questions.
I knew that from this point on, I would no longer have enough strength to enjoy the world that I was given the honor to live in.
Right then, I found that, strength, was perhaps not the meaning to life, but its inherent means of being; that all our actions were to be measured against our lives after our deaths. That indeed time had no meaning or effect after the tool for measuring it, had passed away.
I began to smile radiantly, while carving my potential post-future within a thick storm cloud inside of my consciousness. I felt the rains and the electricity invigorate me to the point where my body itself, went numb. I gasped with a ghastly horror that remains ineffable for it had no property of certain description.
I saw at that moment a vision of my own demise…
that from this cloud which gave the potential of the light to come,
a halt in action was to precipitate.
It reigned supreme with violent rains,
as it parted, while I seemed to be parting as well.
In praying to see the Sun again,
I was shocked to find the lights of the subway shine upon my face as it inflamed my spirit and made its way down to eventually pass through me, within its long-awaited tunnel.
And with its exit…
The Ticking ceased.
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Alan Salé
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