Mercy of Life til its Final Sacrifice

Every single day is something new under the sun. I am at the mercy of life til it decides to offer me as a sacrifice.

 

Remember when the very first cursor blinked its first blink? That was a silly question, of course you don't.

 

Life is like a cursor, it remains in place blinking until it receives input.

 

Until then, my two thumbs, my fingers and my voice will continue putting in the input. I press frantically, slowly and quickly, scurrying to catch up to the cursor, but it is always a single character ahead of me. Not even the delusion of invisible spaces can let me step ahead of it for just a single moment.

 

The cursor signals the present moment. It always remains, covered or uncovered. Everything behind it cannot be undone, though the only way to stay ahead of the cursor is to move in the opposite direction. Ahead of the cursor in an entire universe of blank slate sitting with no requirement for patience, yet open to be colored. Colored with mere black or white letters that have potential to miraculously grow into multidimensional objects. Clones if you would...

 

In a single moment, just as unexpectedly as it came alive, the cursor will blink a final blink and stop blinking.

 

Time to feed my birds and squirrels.