Disclaimer: It is a mere natural occurrence for writers to be inspired by other people's works. This is not to say that the following paragraphs are unoriginal, but to simply state that this is an evolution, if not an alteration of someone's ideas.
Time is an Aves that flutters endlessly towards eternity. That bird of majesty congests the air with pastel nostalgia and reminiscing. Its haunting flight, a continuous motion of forwards, is a force man nor machine can repel. It therefore encompasses every being.
You, but a feather on its wings, plunges towards the abyss below. Understanding was never your virtue, so you decided without thought . You should have seen how much of a mirage of poise and confidence you are compared to the infinite wisdom of Time.
Tell me little feather, what lies ahead? Will the gentle blows of the zephyr reattach you to Time's limbs? or will it push you down, further into endless oblivion? Why did you fall little feather?
You continue to flutter without breaking a wind, swaying back and forth. And with one last blow, you fall, trampled, dusty and tattered at the bottom of a bird cage where the feces of Time drop.
Of course, your expression was placid. Nobody expects a feather to converse.