by Sarah Grossman
He mocked time, every inch of it. Was one moment not greater than the next? Inspiring beyond a mathematical unit? Dancing elegantly through the trials of experience? Functioning beyond human reason? Existing, re-existing, persisting without rest? Does time not build on itself? He knew it because half the time he was nowhere to be found, lost in the pockets of time. He smiled as he gathered his thoughts, knowing that he was larger than a moment, and more importantly, in control. Choice. It was the word of the day. And so he looked within himself and felt the graces of time. His hand gently grazed over the smooth surface, his fingers rising and falling in the curves as he considered:
Beliefs don’t define a person. Beliefs change as hour is cemented upon hour. Questions. That is what defines a person. A question can last forever. Answered, disproved, re-answered. Some puzzled over until the mind blows a fuse. Some reaching to the stars while others reaching to an undefined place only grasped in neurons. Mulled over and spit out until truth no longer exists. He understood. Truth didn’t need to exist; existence itself was enough. He smiled.