I have quite literally wrung my brain dry with this investigation of eschatology. I have decidedly fallen into the camps of Partial Preterists. I have no insights left to impart, simply the bearing of the Holy Spirit on my own spirit, which leads me to this conclusion.
Changing the subject…
If time had walls,
What would frame this hour?
Would I find safety in the confines?
Fewer lost moments, bleeding in chaos from one to the next?
Who would share this hour-room with me?
Would the doors be open?
Walls hung with color and beauty?
Homey? Or shuddering will we
Hustle to leave, lock the door and run
To another moment and hope to stay…
even as time slips past?
No, time is like adornment. Jesus,
Dress me in scarlet to brighten rainy hours.
But as the whirlwind moments pass,
Seamlessly, like seasons, unthought freedom,
Finding comfort in each dress and shoe
To walk the proverbial halls of time.
Yesterday, I wore a garland of buds
And slept wrapped in a blanket of cashmere.
In each moment hangs a wardrobe.
I only have to chose,
To enter or leave each moment
With well-dressed mind.