It's Time-Time

It's time, you know. Or is it time unknown? Or should time make itself known?

Time is a measurement-- a way to say: "He's early." "Hurry up!" "After while." "Past due." "Just a minute."

An hour can't be seen. It's just space. You can't feel, smell, or hear it.

Time is elusive, though inches, feet, and yards make sense. But an hour or even two is way out there in the blue.

There is zone time, life time, real time, time-is-money time, time scales, day and night time, timeline, borrowed time, fine time, good time, time out, time b.c., time a.d, and on and on and on.

A time-clock must be time redundant. Maybe it should be called a clock-clock, clock-time, or time-time. "What time is it?" you might ask and someone likely would say, "Oh, Oh, 'bout four-four o'clock or so or so."

If a time-slip slips, time might also run, hop, and skip. I only hope that when a time-slip slips it drops into fall time then quickly bounces back to springtime.

I suppose time isn't really, really real but I concede that if it is only fiction, it's awfully strange how my tummy knows when lunch time is supposed to begin and how my shadow always appears in the afternoon just in the nick-of-time.

If this esoteric philosophical time chatter is making you spacey, feel free to kill-some-time. Tap your foot, clap your hands, keep time to the music and have the time-of-your-life!

One, two, three o'clock, four o'clock, rock,
Five, six, seven o'clock, eight o'clock, rock,
Nine, ten, eleven o'clock, twelve o'clock, rock,
We're gonna rock around the clock tonight.

© Coninc., TheDownsideUp.Com 2006