In the whirlwind of time, who said that seconds are decreed

In the whirlwind of time, who said that seconds are decreed? That your steps must align with others’ concrete success indeed, That arrival is an unyielding mandate, and deviation a defect? You see them climbing the spires of their creation without regret. In iron and glass they carve their legacy, while you remain silent, A shadow frozen in the ruins of dreams that never grew vibrant, With hands weary from the burden of unfinished things, You whisper to life's algorithm: "Recalculate, don't leave me behind!" But time is no engineer, nor a gentle, loving architect, It's just the scaffold beneath your feet, moving only when you dare to fly. Did the monolith mourn it didn’t rise with the first light? Or did the river curse its flow for not sculpting the world in a single moment? You’re not behind; you’re just a separate code unfolding, A unique sequence evolving and flying at its own rhythm, In a story never meant to synchronize, But to follow its own course, unchained by time and space.