The one journey we cannot truly see. We cannot see ahead. We cannot see behind us on its path.
It cannot be stopped.
And yet we are on its plain. At a constant speed.
Hurtling through the Universe. Without care or consideration for anything and anyone.
With pompous arrogance.
Leaving the conscious in turmoil. Desperate for it to increase in speed. Desperate at times for its deceleration.
And yet there can be no such thing. For it would be akin to calling one “two” or black “blue”. An impossibility.
We conscious souls are trapped. Not within our skin. Not within the casing of our senses.
But by the dimensional track upon which we travel.
The dimension of time.
Woe is us.