The Pulse We Step To

Each day is a relay, a baton for tomorrow,
For adding to the dream you dream you dream is you.

Life is not a race against time, but a matter of the intention of each moment. One pixelated promise, not promised.

There’s no way to hold a moment.
What is time if not a measure of the rhythm of our heart?

The pulse we step to is the measure of our life.

Time, too, is relative Al, when juxtaposed to our hearts content.

Literally.

The best time of day is just before sunrise until just after it. Unless there’s a super moon in the sky, then the whole night is blessed.

This.