Do you know how it feels to die at 18?
Do I? Not really; I died at 23.
I can tell you how I felt when I left home at 18, though.
I was heartbroken.
I would hug my mother every 5 minutes before I left home.
In seven months,
I passed through seven cities,
by the seven wonders.
And yet, I had no time to stop by any.
The first day after the seventh month,
I stopped by the Bern’s whimsical clock tower,
The clicking gears and dancing bears of which led Einstein to change the meaning of time.
Seven more days of looking at the time,
Seven more days of wishing time were still
And wishing Einstein had lived enough to say it is.
I’d have seen the seven wonders in not seven months,
but in seven seconds.
A second would have been enough, actually.
Or a moment to be precise,
If we’d seen time as what it is, unmoving.
Because the time we know is merely, a measurement of it,
And not the time itself.
The second that ticks in my watch,
Tick tock tick
And in the great clock, Einstein defined the time from,
Ding dong ding,
Is so wrong a definition of time.
I wish he’d said time is absolute and still.
Death and birth would not have been a thing, then.
For they are both the illusions time creates
or maybe, our interpretation of time does.
Then, Einstein could have lived.
To change what we have known about time.
And to make us all immortal.
Like I’ve become, Amar,
not in the 7 months of running behind time,
But from 7 days of standing still before the time,
Which only I’ve seen is still.
And I’ve seen the seven wonders,
For I’ve become the eighth wonder myself,
the Einstein who lived.