View from the Edge

"But Psyche, uplifting her finger,
Said: "Sadly this star I mistrust -
Her pallor I strangely mistrust:
Ah, hasten! -ah, let us not linger!
Ah, fly! -let us fly! -for we must."
In terror she spoke, letting sink her
Wings until they trailed in the dust -
In agony sobbed, letting sink her
Plumes till they trailed in the dust -
Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust."
-- From Ulalume, Poe

Each of us has let our wings trail in the dust. Each of us has succumbed in some degree to the tide of materiality that has washed over our soul like an oil spill. We reveled in the spill and splashed and played as if it were the clearest pure water. Our feathers are a gooey mess. We have forgotten we once knew how to fly.

We said there are no spiritual heights. Nor depths. We said there is only this. This right here. Not knowing nor even caring that we had confined ourselves to a prison cell with a small exercise yard. "At least we got rid of that troublesome God!" we boasted.

Like babies in a nursery crowing in delight at being in charge.

The prediction has been that somewhere around 2012 Great Change will occur.

The time is here.

We are beginning the Return, the Eternal Return.