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Measure Meant

I am calculating a future time.  Time is a measurement.  What we do is measured by what we’ve done.  Only time will tell.  If we stop to listen, time is talking.  We assign length, width, height and depth to everything we know. The measure of a man is what he does with this knowledge. Knowledge is power.  The measure of a man is what he does with his power.  We see the lengths a man will go to. We marvel as a man travels to new heights. We admire the widths he will traverse. We explore the depth of his knowledge. Yet, after all this, he is just a man, a man in time.  Time has only one measurement.  There is a length of time, but no more.  Is time running out or are we running out of time?  Last night I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up and surfed.  Slouching back in my chair I was lost in a fantastic world.  With heavy eyes, I was caught in a web of wonderment.  For a time I was in another time, I was in another place. In an instant, click, I was somewhere else. Nodding off I traveled on, here and there, I traveled everywhere. I could see this day in history.  I waited and I saw tomorrow.  Last night I saw today. Yesterday I saw tomorrow. Today, tomorrow the day after that, it kept going on.  I couldn’t stop watching, wondering if I would see today as history.  If I waited long enough I could be watching the future. Then it stopped.  It split into a million, maybe a billion pieces or pixels.  The history of man, the history of time was flying out before me on my screen.  I saw each pixel moving in its place and every pixel was a point in time.  I shivered, I shook.  It was crazy, my arm and my hand flapped out of control.  My finger clicked and it was gone.  History had stopped, so I moved on.

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