A Question of Time

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A business man holding a wooden hourglass

Let me put it this way: It’s just a question of time, buddy. You can resist me with all your might and power, you know, but that’s just how it goes. The reason for this is not anything to do with the power you possess; it’s just your time. That’s all. My time will come as well, even if it seems impossible at the moment. You can’t see it because you’re blinded by your achievements. Believe it or not, but your time is already up. I’ll tell you how I can be so sure about this. Night gives way to day when it’s at its darkest. Winter gives way to spring when it’s at its coldest. Summer gives way to fall when it’s at its warmest, and when power reaches its peak, it gives way to weakness. It means you’re already slowing down when you reach your maximum speed. Still, you can linger in the zone for a little longer if you stand on tiptoes. This is life, brother. You start falling whenever you reach the top. You start getting older once you finally grow up.

And one day, you’ll set out to die. As that day gets closer and closer, all your delusions gradually walk out on you. There’s one thing a dying person will happily trade his or her life for: the truth. That truth puts everything into perspective for you, just as I’m trying to do, without threatening and softly and (believe it or not) affectionately. The truth speaks to you with an aching heart. It speaks with unconditional, endless love. It doesn’t judge, yet it feels sadness and hope at the same time for the wisdom in you. It speaks, longing to bear on your behalf the suffering you are destined to endure. When the truth starts whispering, you want to draw it into your ears, although it never comes from the outside. You can’t seem to find enough water to cool down the flames burning in your heart. You can’t seem to find a second to either reclaim your remorse or apologize. I know, like I know the back of my hand, that if you had a second chance for life, I would be your jewel, as the phrase goes. You see, I love you exactly for the person you could possibly become. I speak to that person within you. They say you cannot hear me, but I know you hear my words. You hear me even when I’m not speaking.

My precious friends tell me, “You say you don’t like politics, but you talk an awful lot about politics these days.” You know they’re wrong. I don’t talk about politics or such like. I speak up because I cannot bear the suffering that my brothers and sisters will face at that particular moment, which we’ll all arrive at later. I speak not to a specific person, but to all people, my pupils, brothers, and sisters, as well as to myself.

Not one instance of suffering is necessary. Not one death is significant, ever. All the suffering we bear is from our ignorance. We cannot bring it back once we lose it. No punishment can shatter suffering. Suffering is meaningless and unnecessary. It’s so unnecessary that it’s not even fair. It’s just a meaningless, unnecessary, illogical, useless madness, a state of darkness and desolation.

There’s only one way to become happy: to make people happy. There’s no other way.

This far, no further. I can now resume speaking to those who do hear me.

I beg your pardon if I’ve spoken out of step, brother.

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