Limited Time

A man I know is fated to die an early death. He has been given a death warrant that will validate itself before he reaches the age of thirty. By matter of consequence, he is the most existential person I know. Due to this realization that his time is limited, his time is short, every single particular moment in his life as gained incalculable meaning. And while he is still a human being, he is not nearly as flippant with his time, he is not as distracted, he’s focused, not nearly as quick to run to the wayside of the slightest hint of some new shiny thing. Every instance is a moment of choice for deviation or consistency, wherein he can lose his resolve or maintain himself on the path of his task. The nature of the task is the most fascinating part: the task to live wholly and to live deeply as a human being––to live well. And due to the ever-present knowledge of his impending demise, there is no reason to postpone the need to move in haste; there is no reason to put off striving toward the end line.

To which, now, the thought strikes me: we are all marked men. We all have a moment, coming quick and coming fast, wherein we all will meet our demise. Shadows and dust. We’re food for worms, lads.

The leap into infinity is on the next horizon. What is it that I am waiting for?

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