I write.  I am compelled by whatever force, male, female, inherent soul, external force, benevolent, malevolent.  I know not.  I do know that benevolent would be boring, wouldn’t it, dear reader?  Malevolent is so much more interesting, but no matter.  I write to tell you that your sense of past and future are nonexistent.  They are part of a cosmic lie that the universe tells to young nebulae and dwarf stars.  You, like them, cling to past and future because it is impossible to cling to the present, which is constantly ebbing and flowing.  So, we make up our stories, yesterday I did this, tomorrow I will do that, but they are constructs no more real than the boogeyman.  All the while, we do not realize that we are not in the here and now.  We are not present, pardon the tautological pun but it is the truth.  And we are wasting it by not being present.  Instead we are rehashing past hurts, or future conquests.  We are fools being foolish in our motley, bells and whistles flashing as we dance our silly, little dance.  The lights are definitely on but no one is home.  We set the lights to a timer and took off on our merry little vacation so that no one would know we are actually not there.  We are building castles of sand and the high tide is definitely rolling in; but we are on the moon causing the very tide that will ultimately destroy us and our castle.  And we don’t even know it, not fully.  We may get a hint of it as our life ebbs and flows, a hint of mortality or a sense that there may be something more while we watch the snow fall on an early spring afternoon…


The true miracle of the prophet is not knowing the future, it is knowing the present and being able to see what will happen next by looking where his or her life ebbs and flows to.




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