Sec-ret

Two hands moving as one;

With varying pace and purpose — fates intertwined.

One ticks to bring about the purpose of the other

While the other’s existence gives purpose to the first.

They don’t seem to run the world

And yet the world runs around them,

Making them the master of all — actions, decisions, no matter what.

To be subdued by those you oppose is common enough;

We live — subdued by the hands which took the place of the sands;

Controlled by the ones who move mechanically, bypassing thought, thoroughly.

Now, the world works in accordance with the rhythmic pattern they set –

We set our standards, by the words of these.

What we inadvertently fail to notice is the third;

The third and most significant of them all.

For the third does not help you set expectations;

It makes you live.

For as it moves, you are to move with it –

You don’t predict, you don’t expect, you don’t hope — you can’t.

For all it provides is the moment at hand. All we can do is live it.

Live it in splendor and rejoice it like the last,

Not looking to see what will be.

To grab it out, notch by notch,

And revel in it, to proudly march;

Never doubting, never debating –

To flee and be free with nowhere to reach,

Except the place, in which, you are meant to be.

This third hand, I tell you, is the secret to life;

A secret; told to all and yet known to none.

This secret, my friends, is the meaning of life.

On reading this, you do not absorb?

What secret dost thou speak of, you ask?

I shall put it bluntly, then –

Time is not.