The Death of Time

Posted by on Mar 3, 2016 in The Superessential Reality | No Comments

Oh my Good Lord, Lord of Hosts,

I look forward to the last of days.

The day when the kingdom inconceivable

and the kingdom perishing

become one;

when flesh

becomes that which is not flesh

and that which is not flesh

becomes flesh.

The things intangible

we will hold in our hands

and the things passing

we will behold in eternity

Lord, I yearn to see these things

Will these walls point ever upward

without drooping under its own weight?

Will these city streets remain unblemished

as they do in the dreams of the geometer?

Will these trees stand with upright dignity,

as they do in the dreams of the architect?

Will these wooded acres become like home,

as they have in the dreams of the learned one?

The learned one, Lord-

the one who reclines in his study

over wooden floor tiles,

between plastered walls,

dreaming to become one with the Garden once more.

All these things that men suppose they know now,

will they truly know in these days?

Lord, Lord; have mercy on me

Let these days be near

Let the light of dawn shine upon me

Until heaven and earth perish, Lord,

these questions will not find life;

they will lay dead

as questions unanswered.

The truth will hover beyond my reach

even if it stands before my face

My eyes will not see, and my ears will not hear

My Lord, you bring sight to the blind

Do not leave me in the black.

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