Isolated. Insulated. Protected against the light of day. Hidden from the sun, the sky, clouds, raindrops…whatever is “out there,” waiting to pounce. The world outside my partitioned cell is invisible. Time has been paused…but for how long? How can I measure the passage of Time if Time, itself, is on “hold?” Without Time, I am stuck in infinity…yet infinity implies the immeasurable passage of time, doesn’t it? Indeed.

Civilizations, even great ones, have disappeared. Ours is at risk, just as were those once great ones whose rubble is all that remains. Time will reveal whether ours follows the same path. In the meantime, we can either cower in wait for the Grand Dissolution or we can ignore the rules that govern propriety and “good behavior,” opting instead to engage in an orgy of wild indulgence.

Of course, the inevitable decay may never come. What of our banality, then? Or our fears? The terror we feel as impending doom stalks us? Perhaps we should maintain a modicum of civilized behavior, “just in case.”

Maybe I should lift the blinds and peek out the window. The end times might not be on the horizon, after all.

Ah, the title of the song is “Morning Has Broken,” not “Morning IS Broken.” And off I go, into the morning, exploring what the day offers.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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