When the darkness of time clouds my vision, And leaves damp and withered roses on my doorstep, I cannot help but frantically search behind the veil of reality, In hopes of finding something more meaningful than the tired old song my clock sings every day. Time is a burden imposed on mortals, It is the missing piece of divinity we never won from the garden, It is the true curse of Adam. How I long to dance in the infinite and skip merrily from future to past and back to the present, How I long to be free and wander the unmade realms of possibility, Existing eternally in the waters of the deep. If only I could hover over the water like the Spirit, If only, like Wisdom herself, I could sing with the angels and the morning stars, At the beginning of time, At the end of time. Then I would understand my own nature, Then I would be truly free, Then, and only then, I would know peace And depth And Christ. And so I will sit here and try to be present, I will try to be fully in this moment, In the hopes that I may slip into what has never been, Or even what never will be, And stumble my way up the ladder to Heaven, To join the angels and the saints. And sometimes it works, Sometimes I taste the sweet fruit of heaven, Sometimes I wrestle with God and receive a new name, Sometimes, just for a fleeting moment, I glimpse eternity, Even if it leaves me wounded. Yet, that fleeting moment of eternity, Is more than my injury, Is more than my life, Is more than all my ancestors combined, It is bliss and sorrow and utterly ineffable, And I love it completely, And I long for it deep inside. It calls to me, The deep, The nothingness of all, And I hear it whisper secrets of love and the mysteries of old, As I sit here on my rock Listening to the song of the trees, Far from any clock.
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