I Did Not Have Chicken Pox

Illustrated is the time

Tic.

time, something that never stops, or continues, or rushes. Never suffers. Something that just walking, to running gear hits sung by a route that no one knows whether, if you start or finish.

Tac.

Weighs around you, do not slash, but you drag. Key even if the feet on the ground, even if you tie to the wall, you always bring with him. It's like a river, a deep, no stones, and wide, with no branches. One drowns you, you down, makes you dizzy when you go faster, and it seems little, it gets boring when it goes slow, and do not see the time (can you see the time, there will be times ?) that fall for this cascade endless.

Tic.

How do we know what happens, how? "The bombing of our hearts ticking, tiredness hours? Is fear the days, weeks pain?

Time passes and we feel it in the lungs, every breath, as it passes through our skin. Is because when suffering is eternal, when we love ephemeral.

Tac.

is the time the beating of the drums of the clouds, which mark there, passing, moving. Time is on our minds, because it changes, follows.

lives with us and we live by it. To live is to exist for the time, and we exist through Him.

Tic.

The time is, because it is. The time we do, when we mark something, when we. One, two, three, four. It is something that happens, you mark periods, past, present, future. Was, is, is he?

Tac.

Did you hear, you listen, you hear?

are the steps time.