UNTIMELY

Someone knocked at the door at an

ungodly hour, asking, "Are you home?"

Utterly astonished, I wondered who 

could have arrived at such a time.

My eyes still bore the heavy shadows

of deep slumber—much like at dusk,

when the silvery radiance of a full 

moon is often obscured by dense, black

clouds, leaving the moon utterly helpless.

Yet, driven by an inner impulse, I rose;

the mere thought that someone stood

waiting outside made me feel uneasy.

Upon rising, I saw that darkness enveloped

everything—as if I were wandering through

a deep, endless realm of sleep for the 

remainder of my life.

Approaching the door, I asked, "Who is it?"

I received no response. Feeling somewhat

perplexed, I asked again, this time a little

louder—"Who are you?" Receiving no answer,

I opened the door and stood there.

I saw no one. It struck me as strange, for I 

had distinctly heard the sound of the knocking.

As I closed the door and turned around, 

once again came that familiar voice calling

out, "Are you home?" I woke up. 

I was liberated from the captivity of my dream.

I realized that "Time" life's invaluable guest 

had knocked at my door at an unexpected 

moment, simply to convey this truth: that the

flowing river of time never turns back; that life,

in its essence, is nothing but moving forward.