There Is Light Rising

God said:

“‘Til the ends of time” is a lovely expression, rather sweet or bitter-sweet, nostalgic. All the same, time never was, yet time is something you rue for its passing. Gone are the days of yesteryear. Now there are merely images of people that you can’t forget yet who are no longer on Earth whom you do not truly remember, oh, maybe a patch here and there. You almost can’t conjure them up any longer. They meant so much to you, and you may still miss them so much at the same time as they seem to have gone away leaving you behind to go it alone.

How can it be that your dear mother and father are no longer here? How can it be that you are now older than they were when death whisked them away, yet death is not real. Simply the ones you loved cross a river that you have to wait to cross until it’s your turn.

The river they crossed is more like a rainbow, you understand. There is no forging across a rainbow. There is light rising, perhaps the way dew rises to the sun. Another day, the dew returns. In this way, life is like a dance, this turn, that turn, circle left, circle right, and then you meet yourself and bow or curtsey.

Yes, life in the world is like a dance, and you never know when your dancing on Earth ceases. You may have been doing somersaults all your life, and then, one day, you will leave your somersaulting behind and you go off into the wild blue yonder.

Instead of time, Eternity and Infinity reach out to you and open your eyes. You are amazed at what you see, and you wonder how you did not see all the beauty and magnificence that the calendars swept up. Now you are borne by the angels. By and by, you come to discover that all along you have ever been is an angel, and angel years are not counted, cannot be counted.

Angels are a-plenty. The next person you meet is an angel. You may spot an angel in the mirror. The next person you see in a mirror is bound to be you. See what an angel looks like, and take him or her for what he and she are and not for what they are not.

Time has no substance. Time is so very relative. The same time goes fast, or it goes slow. Time that does not exist can seem constant or it can come and go in a blink of an eye. And yet time causes happiness and time causes sadness. You mourn the passing of time, and there are also times you want to be over and times that you never want to end. Time does not truly exist, so it cannot be said to have ever begun or ended. It simply never was.

Time is like fog. Time is mist that is gone before you know it, and what did you think time was anyway?

Time doesn’t march on. It beats its drums and think it’s a big shot when all along, time weasels its way around. And, yet, wow, what an effect time has on you. Where has time gone, and what was it anyway, this imagined bowed-down-to-time?

How can time not exist and yet be such an influence in life? Time is like an empty pot. That’s all it is. Time makes itself all-important and wastes your energy. Some might say wastes your time. It is good to be without time. There is a lot that would not be if the illusion of time were not.

Without the illusion of time, you might take a slower pace. There would be no running out of time. You wouldn’t race nor would you be slow. Without time, as you are, you would be just right.

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