Life for man exists in time, and in that we know; that man has times. There are those times when man has met the darkness of nature, and all seemed threatened, perished, or devoid. Man walks through times, when there is nothing remarkable. Every so rarely a moment is born, and for a short time; we bask in the Rays of Jubilee. A length of time has passed, and it is as if the puzzle was clear. When we reap, the soil gives as if the moment was perfect; not too soon. A ripe harvest and dinner of celebration. A toast is drawn in quest of appreciation. Appreciation of the weather, for giving just enough to stay within our know how. The same kinds of appreciations are due to all the influences in play. Let the reapers not folly with notions of high skill alone. A great deal can be said for good old happenstance, its mercy is where all mastery lies.
On to more pressing cogitation, you see there is supreme being; but from that we are not separate. Creation was created in the same way that we witness every moment of the day. All things go through these ‘times’, and the completion of a ‘time’; when spoken of is referred to as an event. Events are things of wonder, it is no surprise when you are riveted in recognition; a surreal sense is attached to it. Everything is very much alive, and dancing around us. We as man, hold only so much external control, and are bitter of our shortcomings. Let us be honest with ourselves, we hold the measure of what is good or evil.