A String of Pearls

Imagine this. Each day strung along a bead… like an infinite string of pearls, each one catching the light for a moment before slipping into shadow. We move along the string, thinking it endless, thinking we have forever to notice its weight, to see what makes each day its own.

But how much time do we really have? Not the hours on a clock, not the minutes we measure with lists—but the moments that stay with us, that settle quietly inside and shape the next day. Even as the clock ticks, exact and unyielding, it is set for nothing beyond itself: time does not wait.

We spend our lives counting, planning, chasing. And yet most of what matters is in the quiet confrontations with ourselves—the face he or she sees in the mirror, carrying the quiet marks of time, though inside, the spark of youth still flickers—the boy or girl who once believed they had forever. Time takes what it must, and slowly, subtly, their days and minutes begin to show, not in numbers, but in the way life has shaped them. These are the moments that linger far longer than the hours they try to control.

There are 365 days. Some pass lightly, some feel heavy, some are so ordinary they almost vanish. And still, each day asks: Will you move through it without noticing, or will you pay attention?

The clock ticks on. Its hands are fixed, but we are not. We carry these days, one by one, and decide what they become.

There are 365 days. Some stay in memory, some slip past, some remain clear. All of them are ours—brief, fragile, full of possibility. To live them is the only gift we are truly given.

© 2020–2025 Lyia Meta. All rights reserved. Concept born in 2020, completed in 2025.