sigh-


I'd give anything and everything, for the good old days!


But it's time to let the younger ones run the show.


and soon, an indication - just as I have done last year, and maybe the year before?


Nah. Not the year before. It was that January that I came into the year with a blank slate - ready to accept anyone, anything, and initiate a new life, one more enjoyable than the last.


This January... it will be a blank slate once more - when I go in for NS on the 28th. But there will be no blend of the familiar with the unknown - it will all be unknown. My idea of an adventure combats situations with everything I have - disorientation means I will not be able to focus my effort.


The First Universe was one of endless though productive toil, not knowing and not asking what, how, why, anywhere outside the tasks.


Toil was the First Universe.


The Second Universe was one of hope for change, of dynamic bursts, of sparks of inspiration unmatched. One of action.


Vision was the Second Universe.


The Third Universe will succeed the second with its law and order, where rules are followed and unquestioned, for the rules shape the efficiency of the system, and grant it unconcealable clarity and precision.


Discipline will be the Third Universe.


Time is an erosive force. The stamina for work was whittled down to exhaustion; the inspiration for vision suffocated little by little till it was all gone. But Discipline, and Order! We shall see if Time manages to grind this high mountain down.


Obscurity is the derivative of Connection; reminders among instances forge parallels, and through parallels, symbols and representations may be seen.


And yet, no order can encompass all of creation. And there is doubt.


For:


This thing all things devours;
Birds, bees, trees, flowers;
Gnaws iron, bites steel;
Slays king, ruins town;
And beats high mountain down.


Both riddle and answer resonate within me like a piece of music. Once Connection is made, parallels may be formed in abundance, and both surfaces shine like silver mirrors, turning the insignificant into a microcosm of all that was, is, and will be.