Time to Leave Time Behind

Free-falling in a cosmic dance away from calendars and clocks

I am a barefoot walker, wobbling across a tightrope strung between two galaxies. I wear a tutu made of calendars and a necklace of alarm clocks. The tightrope is taut and connected to the galaxy bound by time. I pause mid-air, nudged by notifications to check my mobile phone. Distracted, I fall.

Enter the void. Floating through space with no destination. The clocks, like time, hang like a millstone around my neck, I unclip them. They tumble into a black hole, never to be seen again. I throw the phone in after them. It howls like a dying devil, a whirring dervish spiraling to its bitter end. Why did I even make a tutu of calendars? Squares and numbers … so meaningless. I was trying to dance in that old galaxy ruled by the nebulous tyrant of time. Another lap of the sun. And another. And another. The end is nigh. The doomsday clock inches closer.

But I am here, floating time-tether free.

The question lingers: will I drift back to the old Galaxy, with its pressure, calendars, and ticking expectations? Like a time bomb. Or forward, into the unknown, without time, without weight? Will I age without time? Father Time shrugs and disappears.

I spin towards a wormhole, calendar tutu and all, transported as if on a carnival ride designed to make me dizzy. Swirling through a spiral corridor awash with light, I am not dizzy. I’m free.

Stepping out into a timeless galaxy, I swap my calendar tutu for a new dance outfit made of stars.

Image source: Photo by Jaël Vallée on Unsplash