well instead of editing that first. Edit this first.
Time is like sand, a collection of fine grains that slip through between the crack of an enclosed hand even if the finest attention was taken to stop it. It always seems to run out at the most inopportune times, leaving one in needy desperation. However, while most people can live with the absence of sand, they cannot live without time. Students like to complain about the lack of time to do homework, yet they often choose to let time squander away while they practice the fine art of procrastination. On a much larger scale, time brings forth life as babies grow in their mother’s womb but it also passes on death, an inevitable part of life. It is just like the philosophical saying that life and death goes hand in hand — one cannot exist without the other. Many people spend most of their lives anticipating death, fearing what they do not know. It is a common misconception that life and death are two different worlds. In truth, life and death are present in ordinary objects as simple a clock, on a quiet street on a Sunday morning and they even reveal themselves through time in nature.
A clock, for example, is what most people use to tell time. An ordinary school clock has twelve numbers on the face, placed in a circular manner. A circle has no clear definition of beginning or end, just like life and death. What brings lives must die; it is a continuous cycle that lasts until the end of time. A school clock also has two hands, one that tells the hour and the other that tells the minutes. As one moves, the other one moves as well and rarely do they catch up to one another throughout the course of the day. It is as if the minute hand propels the hour hand, neither of them pauses to let the other one pass. The hands of the clock are just like life and death, neither of which can stop in a world where death must make room for new life. They must both run their course as they were meant to. When a straight line is drawn through the center of a clock, the clock would be divided exactly in half. The face of the clock suddenly split into two halves that make a whole, Ying and Yang, good and evil — life and death.
If someone were to look out their window on a quiet Sunday morning, they would see the signs of life and death. The road is empty, devoid of any signs of human activity. Cars are parked in the driveway and on the side of the road with their engines turned off and the seats unoccupied. The wind blows through the cracks of walls, howling and hissing at imaginary enemies. At any moment, tumbleweed could roll down the street and blend in easily with the ghostly scenery. A closer look reveals that, the lonely street is not as deathly as it seems. The sun casts its rays upon the rooftops of homes, blanketing the entire block with a layer of warmth and light. Under the light of the sun, the colour of the plants burst back into life. Shrubs lean against the brick wall of the houses, trying to climb to the top. The trees stand tall and the green leaves bright and exuberant. The light brings the whole street back into the world of the living as death fades into the shadows.
Summer brings a time of life and growth. Small plants burst into tall flourishing bushes, tiny flower buds bloom into beautiful and fragrant flowers. The scent of life travels for miles in the light summer breeze, welcoming the bees to drink its nectar and spread its pollen. During the summer, all thoughts of cold dreary winters vanish, yet everyone is aware that winter returns whether it is invited or not. During the latter months of the year when the seasons change, life and death mingle to form the beauty of fall. The colour of the grass starts to fade, as the nights become chilly. What was once luscious green is now a light yellow-green. The winter melons are ripe and just the right size to be devoured after being able to successfully grow during the summer time. The leaves on the vine are already dying, withered and brown. If someone takes one of the leaves and squeezes it in their fist, it would crumble easily into hundreds of tiny pieces, light enough to be carried off by the wind. The shadow of the fence drapes a looming darkness over half of the garden. In this shadow, no vegetables grow and only those hateful weeds would ever take residence there. In the midst of the dying garden stand two bunches of green-onion plants that are still as green and spirited as ever. They stand proudly and shine brightly under the sun in a garden that is quickly fading.
Time flows like the river of life, continuing on its course even through the freezing cold winter. Every second, a babe is born into the world while at the same time death greets another person in another place. As winter dissolves into the pale warmth of spring, life is again restored to all parts of nature. The change of season is a full cycle of the restoration and departure of life — a cycle where death has its place in the months of bitter winter. The ticking of a clock is like a countdown to life. Its beat is like the pumping of a heart, a constant but strong pulse that throbs until a point when life ceases to exist. It is not a difficult task to find life. Anyone can feel it in the air, see it in the trees and hear it in a forest, but it cannot be found without death. Life and death is everywhere, all around nature and in homes. Just a peek at the clock can unveil the limbo inbetween.
What do you think? is it obvious that it's a descriptive essay? Anything unclear? confusing? Grammar? Spelling? Does the theme like it's inconsistant???
--Mandy
