Inclined to believe that we’ve seen it all when this is nearly the beginning. Anticipating those things that my mind concocts in its own immaturity and ignorance. For man can not imagine the things in store for his Salvation and the concept of eternity evades us in our understanding.

You no longer amaze me in your rhetorical testing of God’s Patience. Challenges all authority in expectation that somehow by some limited stretch of imagination I may achieve some measure of escape from His Will set before me. No, there really is only one way out of this.

In the archive of possibility the mind bends to accommodate the curves in time’s dimension, wrapping around to confront me in base recognition. The only modality available is the death of perception and anticipatory planning. For nothing conforms to my leverage on the real and hazardous.

We esteem many days too soon, believing that the next year’s celebration resides just around the bend in guaranteed administration. My fists clench around the wind as everything dissolves in the belly of my inadequate animalism. I simply could never know without seeing.

What creature bears me aloft? What frame of reference gives my psyche grounding when everything is Morpheus for malleable? To assume the colors of rainbow yet seen and walk on ground made of air seeing through titanium while dreams become real as we find our way homeward.

This day is all I have and even then there are no rules, certainty or surety but that found in Sovereign promise. All others ply and scramble even in divination to simply find themselves present at the shooting of scenes yet recorded. Am I to add caption to conformity or subtitle to moment’s arrival?

What encumbers and threatens man in burden of powerlessness when he realizes the ground of his footing has always been illusion? Characters impotent in the story they thought themselves written? Seeking purchase with no coin, thoughtless with no ground for faith in self.

Yet, here is the return to plausibility. That within a play taken from the mind beyond the realm of abject understanding there stands a man invested by surrender. A man who by the shear unimaginable act of giving up all courage has found more than all men may assemble. Not of self but of Him.

This window looks back upon me, frozen in the complexity of ideas I cannot venture to times that are recorded yet to happen. Folded over in space and punched through dimensions that only wormholes recognize. To emerge on the other side where nothing existed until this very moment I became.