There Always Comes A Time

Upon the sands of time all comes to be revealed. Sooner or later all those nasty buggers hiding in the closet of our choice comes to be not only revealed, but with an audience gasping at the horror, suddenly and unexpectedly laid bare. Nakedness pales in comparison to our own thoughts and desires tossed to and fro as newly discovered toys in our endless chest of hopes and dreams. Will it ever end?

If the choice is ours and ours alone then in solitude do we stand upon the shoulders of mice and Man. Looking through the glass of insight, little comes to light. Looking through perception the Universe becomes a place of not only worship but of play-full innocence brought about by a wolf in sheep's clothing. None dare call it 'free will'.

As we all travel together, swirling like the water rushing it's way down the drain of cleanliness, we 'find' each other. Bumping into the night is not my idea of a good time. It's funny how 'existence' plays it's self out.

Watching from the sidelines, vision reveals all such nonsense but upon the fields of play it is quite the opposite endeavor. Striving does have it's merits but that does not mean that one must partake of the shadows of glory in order to get there.

It's true, I do bide my time.

Therefore I do not exist.¹