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.