“The world,” he says, “the world. That’s what he gave to us.”
“Oh, who?” I ask. “The Lord?”
And he tells me without hesitation, “Nay, ourselves. We are the ones of whom I speak. ‘He’ is ‘we’ and ‘we’ are ‘the Lord’ of ages past, present and future.”
This is what the universe is about. Nay, the Universe.
I’ve been around here a long time, watching, smiling, playing the game, winning at it. You have, too. To be honest, I think it’s time we won it. Whoa, whoa, not so fast. Let’s win it in a grand fashion, all right? We’ll win it as champions, as heroes, all right? Don’t rush it. This is the final stretch. Bask in it gloriously and know you’ve won, and then win. I know it sounds nonsensical, but I believe that’s what the end is supposed to be like. It makes sense, but it doesn’t. It feels right, but it isn’t, but it is, and it shall be. Right, right, right. Everything will be right in the end. Once we’ve solved the wars, the rage, the insanities of old, then things will simply be right.
Nay, they will simply be.
I know what you’re thinking, “Nonsense, it’s all nonsense what you’re saying. Nothing fits one way, nothing fits the other. Why are you speaking in riddles and mazes, boy?” And to that I say, “I’m not speaking in riddles, nor mazes, nor puzzles, nor enigmas. I’m speaking in truth. I’m speaking the way we’re supposed to. I’m speaking right.”
That is what the Universe is about. Nay, all universes.
I spoke of Tomorrow once, a perfect day that would come in time. Now, I speaking of Now. Know that both rely on one another. Tomorrow cannot live unless Now passes, coming and going. Now will mean nothing without looking to Tomorrow as a guide, a North Star, hope.
Look to Tomorrow, live in Now. The past? It’s nothing. It should have no sway on you. Perhaps remember it from time to time, but know that dwelling there will get you nowhere, only there, the past, the past.
I’m done now. Nay, Now. I am done, Now, done living in the past. I’m ready for Tomorrow. I’m here for Now. My friends are, too. We all are.
Let’s go. Are you ready?
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“Nay,” he says, “Ready.”
I grin, for I understand him, his sense without sense, and that’s all we need. Make sense without sense, my friends, my lovers, my children yet to come.
Make art, and nothing else will matter. The world will dissolve. The world, the world he gave us.
Are you Ready?
Thank you for reading. Before I go, I’d like to provide a link to the artwork at the start of this piece. Here it is. Thanks again.
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