Unmasking Time

Consider for a moment the outrageous statements time would make if it could speak:

I am Time. I permeate the very fiber of a human being and, for that matter, of the entire physical universe. A man's lifelong experience is woven on my loom; its warp and woof are days and years. The man I know was born on a certain date, his youth and adulthood are measured in terms of me, and he is destined to depart this material scene at some point in me. I enter into every aspect of his experience, and I ride along with him as a constant companion, identifying myself with his joys and sorrows.

A while back this person had an accident; that one, a disease; a third broke a moral law. Result: the first one is now incapacitated; the second, sick; the third, victimized—all by yesterday's occurrences. The other day (or last month or last year) an individual suffered an injury; and again I appeared on the scene: it takes me, Time, for the condition to heal! You see, there are two sides to me. On one hand, I am the agent of deterioration; on the other, of healing. Although I have decreed that mortal man must go through a process of aging, I relent frequently to exercise my power to bring convalescence from bodily ills.

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How Do You Read Me?
December 29, 1973

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