A Slave To Time

There is no time and there is no effort like the time of now. Within the unbroken circle of light lies the answer to the field of dreams in which we find ourselves ever expanding upon in order to completely capture and contain it. Efforting is the desire which fuels motivation. Action becomes merely the byproduct of our imagination. Within the thought of effort lies no other desire than that which we ourselves create in order to fulfill that very same thought. The circle of light appears to expand but never once does it change, appearance or otherwise. The foundation remains as the structures come and go.

Exacting our just rewards, we create opportunities for ourselves, sometimes fulfilling them, other times not. Creative expression is like that. Sometimes you change your mind just for the pleasure of the change itself.

Ennobling ourselves, the universe becomes effervescent in it's haste to conform to our most inner desires. There before you lies the results of your actions, are you pleased?

Breaking the barriers is not for the faint of heart since that is what bravery is all about anyway. Sometimes, setting ourselves up is half the fun.

Here in the moment of now, we express ourselves. Some sloppily with total disregard for all other expression, while others with razor sharpness, cutting through all perceptions and time leave their mark. There is a sign of the times and that sign never changes throughout time. Invariably, we come to understand just what it is that we are doing here, and why. It changes nothing.

Continuation requires the time in which the expression may arise. Time is immortal and can never be killed. Mastering it, our deft handling becomes foolish as time has no master.

Moving about in time we find that our playing field contains all of our hope and dreams. Each day we run into them and depending upon our mood, we use or abuse them to our readjusted needs. Cleaning up after yourself is not an option as we make haste in our searching and never finding theoretical science of mind. Explaining it all to ourselves, we take pride.

Time creates the slaves in which it survives with delight. Shall you spoil it for everyone?

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