Time

The meeting ground of any continuum is forthright in a second chain marking. By this I intend to say that, given all circumstances, all events, all possibilities you are forever searching to the corners of antiquity in your minds. By this, you say and do all that you have heretofore given, a way that you have made for yourselves a hundred times over, and yet you will make again. This is the nature of perchance in time. Things happening in your time, as the events unfold, you see, are no more happening in contagion than the sun rises before the moon. Which comes first? You see, which was it, the sun or the moon?

Therefore time has little meaning in the plethora of events and circumstances in which you find yourselves each day, week, month, or year. Time does not exist. And so, you ask, how is it then that we are still here, in this time, however? And I will say, that time has no consequence that you can see, hear, taste, or feel―it is illusion, you have been beguiled from ages past, and so you go forward now in the same. Time is illusion, period. For you to exist at all matters not in time. It matters not in eternity. It simply is. For your ideas about what eternity is, while you exist in time, are distorted, as well. Time lends itself to distortion.