Life on the Comet of Itself
God said:
You came out of the mist. You came out of the mist of My Heart. You always existed. There never was a time you were not. We exist together. We never beach Ourselves.
We existed out of time. We were. Rather, We are. Time was not. Time is not. Infinity is. We are Infinity. Our Name is Infinity. We are the Essence of Infinity. We are Infinity.
If space existed, We would be space. As it is, We are Spaceless.
We are Timeless, for Timeless means Infinity.
We wear no clocks. There is no Tick-Tock.
There is the Silence of Infinity and naught else but Infinity. You are truly out of the imagined realm of time.
There is no noise except as We hear it on Earth. There is a loudspeaker in effect. A loudspeaker indicates decibels even as decibels are made-up. They are make-believe like everything else that is rattled off.
None of the stories told are True. Nothingness is True. Oneness is True. The Fullness of Nothingness and Everythingness is True.
Stories are plays on words.
From the forests, stories arose. They appeared to pass imagined time. Stories are like hand fans that are waved to cool down time as if time really existed. Time is a fake. You have been fooled. You continue to be fooled. To be fooled consoles you.
Yet, there is Life, and you are in and out of it, as if this play exists on a fabricated stage – as if this assemblage of a parody -- could be true when only the Essence of Being is True, so help Me God.
All the fussing and sirens amount to a stop gap.
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