A Tremour Of Sentiment.

The long awaited. The highly anticipated. The new exhilaration following this heart-felt warming sensation.

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Trying to slow the motions of time down.

Afraid to close my eyes, because my dreams will steal away what I could so willfully use.

Conscious of communications, in case I get carried off into a world that dismisses the thoughts of time.

Reluctant to move an inch, knowing that every contraction, every reflex, every tension, steals a moment that can never be taken back.

I could stare at the clock, watching as the repetitious arrows encircle its centre, inevitably winding closer to my deadline meet.

So scared to have an inkling of fun... because they say that time flies when you're having fun. Motionless, I would stare at the clock. It's fairly relaxing; I like relaxing... It's fun.

But there's an impossible loophole to my theory of slowing down time. The definite strokes of the clocks are undeniable; unstoppable. I'm in a losing battle...

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Have you ever noticed?
How the soft rumbles of your heart can only be heard at a standstill; in an almost-silence occasion where we do nothing but halt our fidgeting bodies.

I can't help but think about the murmuring of our hearts; how they echo through the halls of our arteries; its steady beating bringing a soft momentum the subtlest of reverberations throughout our bodies. How, as we lie in darkness, listening to the sounds of the clock ticking ever so nonchalantly; the winds cooing as they return with the life of wings- creatures of the sky huddling within their nests, protecting their newborns - the cooling hum of the refrigerator in its dutiful maintenance of keep; the soft snores from neighbouring rooms, or from outside, where a single dog nestles in the comfort of his own house...

... That our fingers softly, unconsciously drum on the sheets, our toes twitch at the slightest just under the doona, and that each hair on our head rustles softly as it finds a new place to settle. As we are at a standstill, our heart beats at its loudest, still working strenuously and tirelessly to keep us alive, even as we sleep.

And once more, our hearts thud in our ears after an adrenaline rush. Amidst the journey, we can only focus on the destination at hand, but we fall across the finish line, exasperated, and all we can hear is the sound of our heart, still working, so earnestly and diligently to relax our aching bodies. Only once we've stopped ourselves can we hear the sacred sound of a heart so worn, so exhausted, and yet in our tribulation, our hearts beat at their loudest to let us know that we're still alive.

They haven't given up on us just yet.

LOL, Sarah.