An illusion called time
I would rather try to weave the threads of my own destiny and maintain the illusion of control then surrender whole

August 24, 2005
iranian.com

Divine be this moment that lingers ever so slightly before departing into the abyss of the past. Departing into that collection of events we call history.

Blissful is the instant that carries us ever so swiftly into the unknowns of the morrow, for there is nothing but this moment and no truth but this instant.

Men of ages past and those of the future yet to come, deeds long done and future ones wished upon, be they fact or be they fantasy, makes no difference, for they'll all be witness to this moment that is divine.

Illusion be this thing we call time, for it has no substance of its own. It measures only that which has been and all that ever will. All that exists is this moment, and I tell you my friend, it is divine.

It matters not who we are. It matters not what we do. For the beggar in the street and the king on the throne are both god, manifest in the divinity of the moment, flowing in the eternity of the dream that is dreaming us.

So forget the past and dwell not on the days yet to come. Seize the day and make it your cup of wine, and drink deep, for as an old mystic once told me, tomorrow may never come.

But is that so wise a thing to do? As the days pass, this I wonder more and more. Should I give but no heed to my doings of tomorrow? Flow blindly through the waves of life? Guided though I may be, I still question it all. I would rather try to weave the threads of my own destiny and maintain the illusion of control then surrender whole. Blissful as that may be.

So as the wise have uttered many a time before, may the universe grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.