Time

I have never made friends with time. Time is false, a pretender. Made malleable by the mind. And yet, too strict and unyeilding for my free spirit. It is a law I'd like to break. I have left a trail of busted clocks and broken watches in my perpetually tardy wake.

Or am I the true liar. I am a lover of the moon. I follow her waxings and wanings. The ebbs and flows of her tide govern my blood. I worship the turning of the seasons. That reassuring cycle that promises that death follows life, but life follows death again. I suppose I find nature's time piece friendlier than those mockeries made by man.