SATURDAY MEDITATIONS #1: SEAS AND SEASONS

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There is a time for everything under the sun—or, more crucially, above the seas—time: a time for root and a time for branch, desires and denials; a time for proverbs, a time for verbs; a time for “know”, and then, the “do.” Except the soul recognizes this, it shall remain as mere dust, vain season, agony pendulum in time’s womb.

There is a time for everything; but Flesh, you cannot have time for everything! This is the paradox of your existence. You linger for eternities, yet your unseeing exceeds your seeing. There is a time for your smallness – and that is the gravity of your brevity.

BREVITY. Human brevity. Coin of fate, imposing supremacies on human courses; and mortal frights seep through deed and design, earth and air, mind and matter. To grasp eternity: this is the errand of the soul.

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But Flesh, there is a time for eternity—time; for time is evidence, evidence of life; and life, of providence.

But Flesh, there is a time for eternity—time; for time is evidence, evidence of life; and life, of providence. But Flesh, there is a time for eternity—time; for time is evidence, evidence of life; and life, of providence.

Oh Flesh of little faith, why do you doubt? Oh slave of tradition, the truth shall set you free, free on headlong reins of love!

Doubt is strange. Death is not. The soul knows that it shall die. Death knows that it shall die. Doubt does not know that it shall live. It encounters the soul on its journey to death and exhumes ghosts, paves borders around the priceless spirit. Strange is doubt; strange its grip.

There is a hole in the world of flesh that men lunge into: deep corridors of ignorance whose walls elevate human shadows as gods. In this hole, there is light, an abject residue of light; for the pride of depth recedes far from the greater abundant light of the universe; and it was the comfort of a billion hole-dwellers that skewed the light.

So, watch and pray, soul! Pray… and watch. Watch, for while you pray, a monstrosity warps itself in your fancy; a sacrilege swells itself in your innocence.

There was a time for innocence. There is a time for gods.

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For who are gods? If Flesh obeys the Maker, call him man. If man loves to obey, call him god.

Love cares. Love heeds. Love suffers long. It doesn’t care.

Flesh: It is hard to love. It is hard to be God.

God: It is hard to not care. It is not hard for me to.

Love is obedience. Obedience is love: this is the matrix of the gods. Flesh, you cannot have time for everything, but you can have time for everything that is love.