Ships Passing in the Night

An Ode, a prayer, a gentle caress, a message in a bottle  to my fellow Time Travelers.

We pass each other as two ships on the infinite sea.  Standing alone in our sovereignty; reflecting and projecting all of the universe.  Don’t look for a lighthouse, there is nowhere for us to dock; we will never see each other, as being seen will render us frozen in time.  Our ships have no sails or anchors, we capture nothing, we wait not, the ocean takes us, as the roots grow the tree.  Don’t wait for me, I’m not coming; and as sure as the mist carries me away, I was never here.

We are not beacons – we move in stealth, never knowing if we are the waters or the reflection.  When we think ourselves the water, we see the reflection.  When we think ourselves the reflection, we see the water.  So, our journey leads us nowhere; the endless cycle of dreaming and waking only to be interrupted by the bright star in the distance.  The star which catches our eye and from which we fix our course, simply by knowing we are not apart from it.  The only thing in the universe which is real; and still, it holds itself billions of light years away.  Yet we reach for it, allowing ourselves to be swallowed by the darkness between us, the emptiness stretching us into nothingness.  Then we are home.

An eternity in nothingness, an eternity in our home; never knowing the difference… fate unfolding its victories and its tragedies, never knowing, never knowing.