Time fades; have you ever wondered how much of it you have left, fractionally? Each moment is a fraction of the whole you've already spent. These numbers are not just calculations but reflections of dreams deferred and time lost in lists and boxes. When I divide my attention, what fraction remains whole?
In the corridors of thought, alliances form and dissolve. Dreams ally to reality, only to be fractioned by the waking world's demands. How much of your dream remains unallied, unfulfilled? Do numbers know your dreams, or are they mere shadows of what's possible? Like fractions waiting to be simplified, dreams await understanding.
What is it that renders our dreams incomplete? A frail alliance of thoughts, perhaps, swayed by reality’s gravitational pull. As I ponder this, I calculate: each decision, a fraction of me; each regret, a subtraction. Is this where dreams defer?