Look at all the ways men abuse Time---as if she were an object. They
cloth her in the filthy rags of Relativism. Or they beat her with
Newtonian whips. If only they knew she is a living essence of
Classical physicists confine her to a geometrical cell consisting in
three dimensions, from which, they think, she is unable to break
free. What fools!
Her body is infinity and her dance is the existence of the universe.
Tall, long-legged and limber, her light willowy body dashes and
spins, jumps and hovers, so that no eye can predict the outcome of
her quick spiraling trajectory.
The relativist simply added another dimension to her jail cell, the
fourth dimension. With this increased freedom, they force her into
the most appalling positions. She is twisted and bent according to
the curvature of space, as if she were a whore.
Little does the relativist know that Time exists in her own right.
She, too, has a soul like Space---and that it is love that draws them
together. Her dance with Space unfolds very slowly at first;
elegantly and always in unison, their arms now rise and now lower,
their feet now pointing, their bodies now spiraling in wispy,
immutable revolutions of exotic nature spirits bathing in clear
And now the age of the quantum physicist has arrived, and their
perverse yearning to cleave Time into two, saying her "Now" is an
illusion without Soul; that, instead of representing reality, her
Now, her womb, is merely an extension of the past; and that by
changing the past you change the future. This is how deeply their
hatred sinks, that even the sweetness of her womb---the Now---is
Yet each Now she conceives, however small, expresses a complete
reality. In the Now she is eternally creating; now lifting her foot,
and now lowering her foot and now elevating her arms and now
spinning. . . . in one continuous flow of movement. . . . each step
connected as if by a golden thread, yet each moment an expression of
God's eternal nature. She is One in the Many.