When a man cannot bare the thought of entering the next second of his life, what will he do?
Run from the ever marching beat of time.
Scream, kick and curse before its unstoppable onslaught.
Why? Why must he go on?
The searing pain he feels in this second will certainly carry on in the next.
Pleading, begging, dying; he tries to shrink and slip between the cracks of time.
No. Please. Don’t. Don’t make him go on.
It’s too much to go on.
This second will be his last; he’s sure.
Tearing, scraping, and groping at the chains with which he is pulled.
Let him tear his way out of its shackles.
And glide into the peaceful motionless that is without time.
Free of the weight of earthy burdens.
A final, agonizing scream.
Tearing at the fabric of the gaping quantum gates which beckon him; he enters the next second.
And the struggle begins anew.
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