In Roberts Creek on the Day out of Time

Set Time free to spin and spiral as it will.

I am so tired, of  confining Time.

In charts and lines, in boxes and tiny jewelled cages strapped to the wrist’s pulsing vein. It restricts intuition, impairs telepathy, inhibits life’s flow. My belly knows suppertime, my eyelids know bedtime, my body feels the passage of the sun and the moon. My red red blood feels the slosh of the tides. Time to leave, is when I’m called to be elsewhere, and time to stay put it when it’s time to be here.

I won’t let nostalgia poison my present, won’t try to clone snowflakes or relive the past. I burn my moldy mental photographs. All that was, still IS Every loving moment still beats strong and hard and sweet, supple and alive, regardless of the cold white stone that jerks those spindly hands around in their cage. I could crush that machinery under my heel. But each moment still lives, and will echo back and forth, resonating, eternally.

I scrape my skin and a fine dust of cells flakes up and floats away. Death is coming for this body, moment by moment, as surely and constantly as it is coming for my lovers and leaders and children unborn. Fretting is futile, it just extends the suffering, and why oh why bother suffering when there is dancing to be done?

Time is the petty bureaucrat of fear, and fear is all that stands in the way of love.

It IS time, the time is now. What will happen is all happening, happening now.

So lets free ourselves from the tyranny of time, receive each clear moment as a gift from GOD and refract it back in red and gold to light up the darkest corners where petty Time cowers, to light him up, and to set him free.

Oh set time free to spin and spiral as it will – that love, alone, may shine.

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