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Time is nothing. Time is everything.

Time is the horizon of hope, the wound that cuts, the flight that returns, the passing of the storm.

Time is destiny unfolding, the historical placement, the world revealing, its sadness foretold.

Time takes no prisoners, the destroyer of all myths, it asks nothing of reason, penetrates the soul.

Time is the forgetting of language, the forgiving of actions, the world of feelings, feeling alone.

Time is the luxury of possessors, the richest of riches, yet forever their torment, incarcerated minds.

Time is the more than being, the event of becoming, poetic imagination, irreducible to words.

Time is the envy of tyrants, the throne that is empty, the earth that is liberated, the solitude of thought.

Time is the deadliest silence, the triumphant chorus, the shadow of remembrance, but a fleeting embrace.

Time is the fateful healer, the bringer of sorrows, the deep river of mercy, the ineffable void.  

Time demands nothing for nothing, Dante’s reflection, Heidegger’s mourning, Nietzsche’s return. 

Time is the fall into freedom, the wondrous exception, the impossible promise, keeper of dreams.

Time is the peaceful violence, the threshold of existence, the graceful performance, passing of worlds.

Time is thinking in motion, the force of expression, the affirmation of difference, the love for it all.

Time is the beautiful spirit, refusing the fateful, the endlessly possible, the colors of the earth.

Time is nothing. Time is everything.  


(Brad Evans, 2016)


Artwork: Chantal Meza, Absent II (Puebla, Mexico)

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