I see into the eye of ever-diminishing future time with blind anticipation. I see into the eye of past time with agenbite of inwit, remorse of conscience. I see into the eye of present time with angst. I reach out with my eyes and try to freeze, to capture, the present moment with my net, my static frame. Present time slips through my gaze into the past.
Time is fluid like water, like a river.
More than a river it is kinetic, dynamic. The idea of static time capturable in the p resent moment is maya, illusion. This concept cannot be understood by studying the cellular, temporal world. You must release the nightmare of your historical awareness. The morning glories smile softly.