Process of Lost Time

Time is slippingh away from us all in the surrealistic spaces of our mind.
Time is slippingh away from us all in the surrealistic spaces of our mind. | Source


Time, it's all I have on my hands these days. Yet I have no ambition to fill it with, no purpose to strive for, mo ability to wake my senses. The time can go on like this for days and then the damn will break leaving me with the decision of what avenue to follow, will it be a painting today, or will it be a poem, or maybe my book or something I'm working on for a client or friend. I find myself moving from one aspect to another, and not being able to concentrate on any one thing My mind is totally scattered and I must work, on something. The majority of the time I can work for a short period of time on one thing then move onto another, but there are times when I feel paralyzed and am unable to make any productive progress toward anything.

Emotions raw and prickly envelope me. Sending me into convulsive gyrations that rack my brain with unknown realities. Thoughts spilling out in random order giving rise to nothing in particular and yet there is a coherent theme that runs through it all. Time static and ever changing and given to us all. Yet we all use it in different ways. And we all lose it, waste it or just let it slip through our fingers. Time , where have you gone? and how do we get you back?

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moneyshot 4 years ago

This hub was a poem itself...an answer to your plight lies in the spaces on the page. To quote the Mick "Time is on my side, yes it is" As long as you are in time...live it.

Spend some time in Navarro's world:

http://j.l.navarro.tripod.com/jlnavarro/index.html

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