Tainted by Time

I step into the cold morning air. My breath floats from my mouth like a puff of smoke from a sailor’s pipe as he stands on the bow of a ship in the midst of a quiet sea.

I breathe the stillness.

A soft flutter of cherry blossoms sprinkle to the ground—a celebration of springtime as the trees toss pink confetti everywhere.

As I walk the empty streets, I try to imagine earth before it was tainted by life. I try to remember life before I was tainted by time.

A foghorn sounds in the distance—a vessel alerting others to its location. Heavy fog covers the ship, concealing it like a thick winter quilt conceals a child in a game of hide-and-seek. Only this game has consequences.

An old twisted maple tree greets me as I pass. Like me, it has been disfigured by time. It seems nothing can survive on this planet without being transformed.

As the city begins to stir, I return to my dwelling, feeling age in my bones and my bladder. Ahh, if only the pain of the world could be relieved so easily.