Time. A conundrum.
Faith is to believe what you do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what you believe.
The past. The recent past. All a piece if we take the art from the museum in October light. Walking in 360 degrees we see.
inside the view impeded.
Now and then, smiling from the foot of the ladder, I dimly look up.
Not clear as I smile, probably due to the fall, how high I was before I hit ground.
Voices I hear tell me their views. I assure one and all just a little nervous from the fall. I ain’t no China doll after all and won’t break into pieces from whatever damn height it was before I hit ground. No economy, no food, no water, no sewers, nothing of the old world left but I’m okay. I will get by. I will survive.
Everybody’s talkin’ to me.
I don’t hear a word their saying.
Deafness departs between words though as the sense of sound settles in.
Everyone discerns truth. Even if out of 360 degrees of truth only 1 degree arises of truth. Still this is truth.
But then again Everybody’s Talkin’ To Me.
at me...it's everybodys talkin AT me....
Time is all that "have" as described by these words.
You are nothing more than a balloon caught between and indefinable, real, bright-lighted lady (Kali) at one end of the room and a fathomless, cold, dark, something at the other end. A tenuous balance - and no way to survive anyway. You only have that instant between the two parameters to get it. Until the balloon pops, you have just that much opportunity to understanding your condition. So that means that life is a very serious matter in which your self-consoling religious beliefs are essentially bullshit.
Death or Mother Kali controls and owns your life.
For you in your dreadful sanity the death of bodies is a philosophical matter that causes untrust, distrust, and hell-deep fear, a matter that fills you with your philosophical and religious propositions that are Godless, Ecstasyless, Blissless.
As a matter of fact, the cosmic domain is just like Mother Kali. Exactly so. It is full of death, full of proces, full of moment-to-moment changes.
Ecstasy requires trust and the utter acceptance of death!