Hiding from Time

I am hiding from time. It seems to keep creeping in, and creeping up, and catching me off guard.

Can it see me here? Will it find me? Or can I sit here and be safe for a while?

I want these moments. I want to take them and grow them. I want to make them bigger than time, and bigger than everyone, and bigger than everything. If you feed things they grow and so I will feed these moments that I have, and they will blossom into beauteous glass goblets of the finest nectar and I can drink them down and the world will slow.

I will own time then. I will have it for myself. I will do with it what I wish. And now that it does not see me I will move my hands so that I am no longer hiding. I will stretch them out and I will push out of the safety of my casket. The casing will crack and break and will float gently away into the nothingness that surrounds me, unnoticed now that nothing notices anything.

I won’t feel scared. I won’t feel heavy. And on the lightness of my new being I will be free.

I will see you then. You will become my new time. In the split second that you take me I will be yours and that will mark our moments. As your body takes mine, time will no longer exist for us. As you take my mind time will no longer have a place in it. When you pull me and push me and break me and reshape me, none of it will be there anymore.

It will not be a world where time counts its ticking over us. There will be no measure other than the measure of our bodies beating and blending, and banding together. It will be a world of heat and sensation, of warmth and touch, and in it we will burn with a fire which makes everything ours. Endless in depth and emotion it will defy all previous constraints and turn time around on itself, holding us in the force field of what we have become.

So I am hiding from time. I am hiding and waiting and hoping that it won’t see me.

Shhhhh!

Prompt #342: Time