Journey of 100 Days

Five days ahead seems as an invitation to prepare. At the same time, anything essential may possibly unfold—a contract approaches, a plan comes together, or possibly an idea I nurture takes shape. That grow of time allows feelings to ferment, hopes to grow, and attempts to mature. I wonder if I'll utilize it wisely.

Six days out feels just like a issue mark. That is nearly weekly, the full time for modify to stir but soon enough to guarantee transformation. I make an effort to remember: what was I 2 weeks from now  six times ago? Can I also trace my measures correctly? Time, because it passes, both shows and erases.

7 days tag a milestone. A complete week from now, wherever will I stay? By then, every thing common today can feel slightly aged, also stale. The continuity of a week can feel frustrating, yet it is also comforting—rounds renew, allowing fresh starts. What will this coming week teach me?

Ten days ahead stretches my imagination further. I think of the seasons, how they remind me of nature's greater cycles. What'll the entire world outside appear to be in ten days? May the leaves modify more, may the air sense cooler, or warmer? Time's passage shows itself in every refined change about me.