Time is Mine

              Since the beginning of man, he has sought eternal life in mythical fountains and violent exploitation. The cost of human life is nothing in comparison. In the name of God and the community, many have been punished for someone else’s foolish greed. But when alone at night they roll in rot, suffering from the time they have truly squandered. In its pursuit, they run from the time they hold so sacred. At least a dog keeps his tail in sight. While they scatter, I pick up the seconds left behind. In my patience, I have found internal life.

              I watch the pot while miserable swine rip off their ears in tension, overwhelmed by the powers against them. You have the here and now or nothing. One man kills himself. I find solace in this final execution of control, but there was a wrongness in the act. Unless it must be. Do they not feel the euphoric release of waiting? Waiting to appreciate time, only with preparation can we have time for nothing. Water, kettle and stove. If I watch forever, so will I be. A spiritual moment of silent flow, my breathing slows to a stop, my heart close behind. I ceased to start the fire many years ago. This extends my sentence of bliss indefinitely. I have become the energy, starting from the dirt. Decomposition is replaced with the roots of life that seep beneath the surface until it is their time to join oneness. They extract life into the sweet sap that pulses up and down the tree with the temperature cycles of our planet. I acknowledge the power I harness in my wood stove, the potential energy beneath my pot is plenty to wait for. I am in no hurry.

              No longer do I need the exciting roar of water. I acknowledge the wood and thank it for its sacrifice. This is the fuel of life, what a blessing to be here in its presence. I thank the water for falling from the sky to feed its children indefinitely. I thank the iron of my stove and kettle for coming up from the depths of the earth and assisting in the ease of my life. Finally, I thank time for allowing me to wait upon it. I had forgotten my tea long ago, such is a trivial matter when you live forever. I used to reside between each tick of the second hand, but this ceased long ago. When in this singular moment, the next moment will never exist. I look out my window and watch the seasons flash by. It must have been a thousand years. How long time used to seem, now just gone in a fraction of the moment. Can time be wasted if all is now? We will all return to oneness, be patient. I hold the conviction of time.