Time Spheres

Palm-sized spheres with deep grooves purposefully incised around the circumference and strange, spongy material insides. A warm tarnished bronze hued ball bearing errant reticulated scabs. The most unlikely of time travel devices, yet... the story is now dead. The spheres have lost their energy. The technology is light years ahead, yet millions of years old. A quick wonder about the choice of such distant antiquity to have arrived and maybe, possibly not returned from. It's frivolous speculation. A dreamer's folly. Folly that stems from belief in physically existing objects. 

There's an object, and an unknown origin, function and intent. This unknown outweighs physical evidence. Time was traveled, then forgotten. Eventually, measuring with increments of time was rediscovered, reinvented. But the applications of manipulating time, traveling the winds between then- now and beyond hide, still denied. Maybe that was the intent, to bury the secrets of time travel, prevent a dark and dour eventuality from millions of years in the future. But that only raises more speculative and unanswerable questions. The dull voice of distant drums echo more dreamer folly.  

Ask

It's not good to ask why. It's not good to constantly ask what if. Asking detracts from the beauty and serenity of the now. Becoming obsessed with the whys and what ifs surrounding us generates a compulsive lust for discontentedness. But asking questions is seductive. Questions are beguiling conceive-abilities that taunt us and demand to be vocalized. It’s then the trouble starts.

Conversations, jumping in, interrupting- expressing thoughts, feelings, notions, wonderments aloud. Communication has become a lost art. Fight or flight are the guidelines of conversation in non virtual world. So why bother? Considering the content of the conversation these days, it's not worth bothering much. Conversations today are not much different than how people dress for shopping at Walmart.

Talk, talk, talk. Text, text, text..... somewhere in between the importance of content and communication gets terribly lost. Then it becomes Jabber. Gibberish.  Maybe that's what it was in the beginning, before guttural grunts and clicks became words and words strove to have meaning.

How quiet the whole planet used to be.

But then all the words had to be used in definitions, the meaning of people places and things, beyond what the eye and mind could distinguish in silence.  

People places things. Mass tribes of neanderthals holding a mastodon barbecue, Tropicana casino slot-machine arena, Beverly Hills swimming pools filled with condoms and ecstasy..... people places and things...

Its all kind of like a game of rock paper scissors.
Rock paper scissors- flint knife.....horse shoes and atom bombs. The games people play.

Isn’t naked Twister outlawed in Utah?

Ever feel like your thoughts are like chase lights on the old Bijou marque?
Ever feel like you're one of the fish in a barrel and the guy fishing is using a shot gun?
Ever feel like you should stop the runaway train, but you don't feel like stopping it?

Its all a magicians act. Stuff, all stuff is pulled from a shiny magic hat. Is it a trick? Is it real? You pays your money and you takes what you get.

We should respect space more, strive to acquire gravity, fertilize where we stand. Kinda like trees.

Youth passes, middle-age ends. There’s a brief period of wicking consciousness- then old age sets up like cement. Your heart beats and your lungs breathe long after you stopped knowing or doing anything. Then it’s too late to ask questions. But, what if...