Ah yes it seems time does fly, zooming nano-seconds amid micro-moments; often without pause. And yet even so … there are … occasionally ‘in betweens’ in these passages. ‘In betweens’ one can become caught up within. Liking onto a vortex of existence. Threads of creative thought becoming victims surrendering up selves, lost in the chaos of swirling motions – of time.
So I would ask of ‘fleeing time’ this question: Is it ‘the nature of time’ that my creativity is bound to, or is it the reverse? Has the nature of my creativity become a fluid aspect of my time’s chronology, and does it really matter as long as I flow among the currents of all time?
*artistic expression threads of creativity boundless in time