They say that time seems to move more quickly as you grow older, that you blink and a year's gone by, twenty years, fifty years and then you're outside of Time. But what happens if you don't blink? What happens inf your eyes are open and it all went by anyway? It registered somwhere in your head, but not really, because you were too busy living to notice.

I guess you can say I'm trapped in my head, and that I like it that way because there, Time doesn't have to exist on human terms, or on any terms. It's not even a matter of rewinding and speeding up. It's a matter of essence.

Essentially...I'm swaying back and forth, moving up and back like the ocean trapped in its rhythmic tide. I am Everywhere in many forms, like the overwhelming ocean; like the water that grows too heavy to remain in the sky and falls between the sky and the ground. I am that veil of rain.

I get lost in myself; sometimes I feel like a drowning victim. Then I remember that water cannot drown in itself. But another voice in me says "Anything can drown in itself. We are born drowning. So give your water away but never let yourself dry out."

I'll take you with me, if you'd let me, on a ride down my stream of consciousness. That stream is deep, more like a river, and to share it with another mind who can not just look but comprehend would be a relief. But the question resounds and I remain hopeful despite the outlook: "Is there anyone out there?" I've said that all I am is words. And I've asked if I am only words, can I ever truly escape the page? Do I want to? Should I want to? There's ink on the air and I trace it. But there's more of it on the inside, behind my eyes than I can ever let out. Will it all be left to waste?