Thin wisp of Time, threaded into Mind like sinew into bone, and yet, blown by like brittle leaves, skittering on frosted pavement;
Brittle wafer of Space, a shaft of Presence in a world of Absence, wavering and yet impossibly still like the blade of a candle's flame;
You are sustained along these thinnest of membranes,
From moment to moment and from place to place:
A miracle, consisting of millions of smaller miracles:
You are worked through the narrows of suffering, and squeezed again onto a vast plateau of plenty: truly, what do you lack?
From birth, you have emerged from narrow space into vast space; from one crisis to the next, you have squeezed through dire straits into new opportunity, from dark confinement to brilliant contentment. You will suffer again; and again, you will be freed.
All peace is Now. All suffering is Not Now.
Stay in the Now: as long as you are present to the Present, your suffering is an abstract painting, hung on the walls of your darkened mind. Admire it; respect its maker; but do not live in it.
For each and every Now is a brilliant promise kept, a Treasure unearthed at your feet. It will ever be thus.
May you know it to be so,