The geology of time.

The porcelain of time erodes so constantly, blasted by the unforgiving sand. The impending sense that it is running out, contrary to the belief that we have nothing but time. Stuck in the taffy pull of forward progression, we do not move through space, rather space moves around us, stretching thinner everyday to infinity. The paradox of dividing by half, never can nothing be reached. And yet we fill our minds with stress and the idea that there is not enough time. For every speck that drifts into the past, two more replace it in the future. Within the perpetual motion of a fourth dimensional hydra, there is no other way. It is that exponential blossom, that golden ratio that ensures that life goes on. 1+1=2+1=3+2=5. The future is a spiral growing outward to the boundaries of all that's possible. There is always more to come.