Time is perhaps the most relative of all the relative in the world. Time trips you up. It confuses you. You are betwixt and between when it comes to time. Ah, Infinity is another story. You are always sitting still in Infinity, or We can say you are humming and dancing, as it were, to your own beat. In the arena of time, you shuffle along. In Infinity, you soar. What more is there to say?
Clocks are one thing. Sunrise and sunset are another.
There are horizons where sky and Earth meet, yet time is always coming and going. Time comes around the corner, and runs away at the same time. Time is an errant lover. Time is like ego seen from another angle. It pushes and pulls you, as if it were shooting bullets at your feet and making you dance. You try to catch up to time while you also try to escape it. Time leads you on, never fulfilling what it purports to fulfill.
I lift a curtain. Come under it, and Infinity captures your heart. You see where you have been sleeping. You see the imprint of your head on your pillow. No hurry in Infinity. There is nothing you have to do but be. Nothing you have to become, for, anyways, you are. Nowhere you have to go because all is here, not tucked away, but in plain view, a view that extends beyond sight and happenstance. Beyond the blue yonder and beyond beyond, flowers grow, and you rise in the light. No, not quite. You are risen in the light. You see, yet what is there to see and who is there to exclaim over it and whose voice can speak and what is there to say?
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