Now and again

Again, so many weeks have passed and I feel like I have nothing to show for it, except the bylines that keep appearing which indicate what a hectic blur my life has been so far. I feel like I'm being held hostage at this moment in time that's pulling me in two different directions, what I thought we would realize when we grew up and started working, I realize now is a fallacy. How much more can we do in addition to the hum-drums of our working life, how much more can work consume you, and how much sheer willpower and energy you have to muster to keep up with your dreams, aspirations, family, friends and personal obligations. If I were in Africa now, would my concerns by any bigger, although no doubt starkly different? Sometimes I really feel it's unhealthy to be so all-consuming in your daily chores, but then again if you don't do it in the prime of your life, when else will you do it. how will I be able to take a step back, without losing that part of myself, or should I have lost that part of myself in order to become a better person?
I sometimes find myself floating out and above and staring in disbelief at what I am seeing, but then I realize that it's all a formative journey and this is what we called growing up in the adult world. I've always been prepared so when it's finally time to come up to the task suddenly it seems like I ain't so prepared after all, or that time is slipping away slowly but surely from the grasp of my hands like grains of sand, and I still haven't accomplished as much as I wanted to.
But perhaps it is humanly impossible. Or inhumanly possible.
My only comfort is I am making inroads, a difference, a glimmer, in what would otherwise be a banal existence; it's as if I'm being told to put my wants and desires on hold for the promise of something greater at the end, and the greatest fear is not knowing what that end will be. might be.
Meanwhile, I can only labour on, and stay focussed, and write down the minute details in my diary; which we all know just ends up sitting at the bottom of a cupboard by the time next year arrives.

My story beckons, I wish I could change the world in one day.