Wildes Writing

Tim Wildes

I really don’t mind the passage of time.

There’s a comfort in knowing all things come to an end – that every story has a close.

It’s so beautiful that you could experience something for the last time and never know; that the last time you two will ever speak has already passed.

You’ll never know until it’s too late.

There is too, something terrifying about this.

Maybe you can never resolve what’s happened? Maybe thoughts will never change–

what’s done is done.

It’s up to the individual to find interpretation of this, however.

To some, this is beautiful-

What is beauty if not something greater than ourselves?

Something to consider.

I’m really excited about the future, near and far.

I’m excited much by the prospect that I could one day look in the mirror and see an old man in front of me.

A physical manifestation of the stories I’ve lived, the people I’ve met, the things I’ve done, and the airs I’ve breathed.

And to think

that when I’m old and broken-

an aged thing,

with my hurting legs and my tired body-

when I am sore and more blessed than now-

I will still be myself with every figment of being that there has been or will be.

I am and will be myself simultaneously through my future, my present, my past, and beyond.

I will never die – until the one day that I do.

Is that not beautiful? I think so.

Art by Tim Wildes