Coherent thoughts are generally not something I create half an hour before my alarm. Elegant ones generally escape entirely, regardless of the clock. This morning I woke up early, and as I rolled over I briefly contemplated the beautiful tragedy of time. There is sweetness in looking forward to passing time, knowing it will be enjoyable and well-used, but there is a heart-breaking sorrow in the realization that time passed is lost forever, no matter how well spent.
I don't mean I shed a tear for having to get out of bed, or that each moment is filled with longing to go back in time, only that the passing of time, and my contemplation of it is bittersweet. There was great satisfaction at rolling over in the warm blankets, even while knowing I would shortly be crawling out into the autumn chill to run the dog.
Of course, as the day wears on, the profundity of pre-dawn musing fades to concern about thinking too much about nothing. Not to mention writing it down.
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