the Times

This was a post a couple of months ago, a friend rewrote two other (his) versions. I felt somehow flattered.

There was a time when all else was proof of your beliefs;

now only our beliefs are the proof of everything.

There was another time when progress was a matter of time;

and now time is a matter of progress.

And in another time, you had your eyes on what you needed;

now what we don't really need have their eyes on us.

Those other times were to be lived, and now life is just to be.

1.Once ago all which remained proved our beliefs,

which now holds the only proof for everything.

Progress was once timed,

though time is now measured by progress.

Before, eyes were for what was needed,

but now what's unneeded has its eyes on us.

Time was once for living, though life is now just to be.

2.Once ago all remaining proved our beliefs,

now that leftover proves everything.

Though progress may yet be clocked,

time is now clocked by progress.

Before, eyes sought for what was needed,

now the unneeded has eyes on us.

Time was to be lived, and now life is just to be.

Time, only Time - Part 7

He could still hear clearly the cries of his ex wife as she had detected all the rowed whisky bottles in the kitchen while visiting him. He did really appreciate her visit, it was something to treasure in the lonely lonely days he was going through. It felt as if he was suddenly left on his own by the whole world.
She had dropped in on him, spent a few hours making him talk a little bit, cooked some food he expected to be eating in the following week, cried a little bit on how he was treating himself, made some brutal comments about his “new found love” and had left silently. He was not sure weather he was feeling better now that she had been there, yet he really appreciated her concern. It meant somehow, that he was not dead yet, that he was still breathing despite all the medicine he took every day to be able to breath; it also meant that there were people out there who recognized his efforts to breath and to whom his breathing and his suffering were of importance. For a short instant he wished she could be one of them, why was she the only one ignoring the fact?
He had done what he merely believed to have the courage to ask for, he had applied for a resignation. As he had expected his boss emphasized a thousand times that such thing was basically impossible, that it was against the Principe, that he had been warned in the beginning that there was no way back once he started. He had not discussed, no arguments, he had just looked at him, letting the sorrow and the suffer show the traces on his face and had just expressed: “I am tired, I hope you’d understand. It’d be also better for you; I am tired.”
Again as he expected it his boss was not goanna buy this excuse. All over these years, this guy had indeed got to know him, he knew him better than to believe he could get exhausted with work. He had just let out “It’s about this woman…”
for the first time he had been really impressed by his boss as he had leaned over towards him, “you know I can not afford to make any mistakes here; if there is just one person to realize this fact, I would take you to be this one. So I suppose you are not expecting me to buy the trash.” Speechless he had shaken his head in rejection. They had both been unofficially honest to each other and this was way beyond the honesty to imagine.
“Yet I could claim to know you after all these years and after all the bottles of whisky,” he had gone on. - Mentioning whisky somehow had scared him for an unknown reason. Was there really something with his drinking whisky and this hell of job he had that his boss might have known better than him? - “for some reason I believe you are exactly the kind of person fool enough to commit such a mistake, and although I know your family well enough not to trust you one second, I would like to take this as a reason to make an exception from you.”
He had not believed what he has been hearing, his eyes had widened as he had tried to remember every word he had been told. Unable to speak a word, he had listened all ears.
“Finish the project you have at hand now, then you may retire. Your financials would not stay the same, which I do not reckon to be a big deal to you. BUT,” his boss had made a short pause to make sure his “but” was to echo well in his ears and in his mind, “but there will be a word of caution to my generosity as you might not expect it otherwise either: I’ll be keeping an eye and even more eyes on you and finish you up should I smell the slightest fishy thing going on.”
So there he was, the first step was already taken, although he had no great hopes for himself, he knew that he was way far from any dream of his. Now he was a guy with not even a particular job to keep him distracted from all which made him so sick. He had spent the first two days sleeping, a few days swimming, which was disturbed by his physical health, two days chilling out with old friends, three days on a short journey and there he was: a guy with nothing but a flat in which he lived. After two weeks he was so desperate that - still unbelievable to him - he had gone visiting his ex-colleagues at work. This was the craziest of all, for one he had never felt any connection to the place and for another, he hated most of those people. He was obviously being hopeless, helpless and lonely. He shrieked back at home, when he considered all what he was now eligible to do just to escape this loneliness for some hours. Yet nothing would help, even the presence of his best friend; he felt pretty much ashamed of his nasty, gloomy and desperate mood all the hours he had spent with her. She was the one person least guilty in his life and yet to put up most with the unpleasant him.
His ex-wife’s visit was to his own great surprise the only thing to have helped him feel some life again. He had gained back some energy trying to justify himself to her and he could not appreciate any better. She had demonstrated understanding of a kind he had never known in her all through their marriage.
“I just wish she’s worth it all, all.” had been her last words before turning around and leaving. Now these were ringing and singing in his mind again and again, and after he had repeated and reconsidered the question - weather she was really worth it all - already thousand times in his mind, he would go back to it and restart his thoughts and considerations, though in vain. It was really not going to get him anywhere and he was aware of it, yet he could not help thinking and tormenting himself with all the thoughts. He felt his skin getting hotter as he longed for her touch, for any kind of touch, should it have been a simple hand shake; anything which would confirm that she considered the presence of his skin and the fact that he was still breathing. This thought made him even hotter, he could now sense the hot air rushing out of his nostrils.
Disgusted he lit a cigarette.