The Condition of Time.

by Ian G Graham.

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I sit in meditation and hear that unrelenting  monotonous sound, the sound of accented beats of hope… a reminder of the continuous rhythms that drive life into cycles returning again, never ceasing, never fading and never failing to leave in their wake the rise and fall of the great, the strong, the weak, the poor, the loved and despised. It’s that sound which drags me into reflection, into listlessness… a battle against its steady pace, its definite hard face, its cold  embrace…to a place where the smells are dank and damp and dark and decayed. A cold, lonely colourless place of wasted hours – my final resting place.

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