Prisoners of Time

We are Prisoners of TIME.

Not having the first idea what it means,
Not understanding that it is Not TIME that enslaves us, but that
Our very idea of what Time is what
Shackles us,
Limits us,
Defines our lives in every way possible.

We are Prisoners of TIME, and we do not even know it.

Oh, we know that we live by the Clock,
Rushing to and fro in an endless maze,
Desperate to make this meeting or that Soccer Game, and
God forbid if we forgot to set the TiVo for Idol.

But these things are not Prison. These things are
Little children playing at dress-up in their parents' clothes,
Going through the motions and repeating things they've heard,
With only the vaguest Clue of what they mean.

We are Prisoners of TIME because we do not understand what
TIME is, and more importantly, what it is not.

We think of TIME as a Dimension, a Duration, a Reality;
Part of our Physical World.

It is none of these things.

If we knew what TIME really was, we would not believe it.

So, we hold to our Construct. We accept the World as it is presented to us.

We stay in our Prison, never even glancing at the Iron Door,
Never noticing the Key already in the Latch, just
Waiting to be turned and

Set us Free. 

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