There are times when the words can’t find the page. On other occasions the page soaks them up, a sponge.
There are times when I am so in love with the world and everything in it that I soak into it, transparent; and then there are times that I reject it.
There are times when you and you and you are equally perfect in my eyes. Mostly though, you are special and you are not, while you are just plain contemptuous.
And yet all time – eternity – is one. There is nothing special or different here - it is not possible. Eternity is the entity. Within, it looks tumultuous; but as an entity it looks complete. It is complete, it has no choice.
Eternity is all and here I lie within it. How is it that the finite seems so real? How could anything be important in the midst of the infinite? How did I make this seem to matter? Guess I must be cleverer than I thought.