Fear of intermittency naturally caught up with mind. It is an everyday thing. I looked out, introspected, and interacted. That vacuum of contrasting content was spilled all over. It felt like a real mess. I decided to pick-up everything, to reorder each object neatly, in harmony.
Of course it was too broad and complex a task for limitation, so I summoned imagination, and with her on board, time became perpetual.
Everything had to be collected, counted, dusted, folded and stored in phases, as the stage was cleared and the slate cleaned. I started with sand and dust, as they are such an endless problem for sweepers, and bare feet. It took me several eons to pick every grain, classify them in terms of shape, weight and composition, store them in airtight compartments and shelve them. But the job was done. Now I walked all over, and there no longer was sand on my feet ,and my floors were oh so clean.
Then I went after bigger objects, rocks, things loose, that gave an unkempt look to scenery, warehouses of them were filled up, as I removed all debris from sight. Then came the creatures. Microorganisms and insects alone were a formidable chore, they reproduced so fast, that when I turned my back to close the containing compartment doors, there were many,many more. But finally intent prevailed and I had isolated all living creatures except people. So I still had to do people, heavenly bodies and points of view.
Points of view and people come together of course, but I decided to separate them for storage purposes to avoid interference and combustion while on that state of refurbishing. So painstakingly I plucked them off from resistant minds, including mine, and folded them neatly and separately, as argumentation in a situation of suspension can be disturbing.
Eviscerated of point of views, all human individualities including my own, peacefully and orderly collected themselves in the depository-nursery of in-between life.
Last task were the stars. –this was also hard. They had to be plucked one by one from the space mantle, gently placed in dark velvet sacks, and stored in a dark room, so they could rest their light for a while. It took me various eons and then some more, to collect them all, from all time zones, from those birthing after the big bang, to the newer generations. I think it was Alpha Centauri , the last one that I plucked, before restoring absolute darkness to space. Then I grabbed the space blanket by its expanded extremes of curvature and shook it hard to remove cosmic dust, dark matter, and all other particles of disarray.
An inconceivable, indescribable anything, there was no dark no light, there were no conflicting points of view between me and a you, no lover-beloved qualms or ecstasies, no noise no song, and even silence was beyond itself.
There was I alone again, forever like ever. Lastly ,I folded imagination and her time-space portfolio, with all the vaults containing everything, and I put it in my nowhere pocket as only nothing was there.
In no-time, I exploded again, imagination could not be contained, being my own whim. Everything was back in its exact place, as I realized that it had been all perfectly arranged, that sweepers needed sand as much as little girls that write their names on the beach, that conflicting points of view, give peace a chance to be experienced, that selfishness is the field where love grows selflessness, that darkness and light are an inseparable couple, that make the dances of day and night, of depression and illumination, that paradise is found continuously through the interplay of the One Beloved with its many lovers in the contrasting struggles of life.
Imagination could not be contained, not even by Me, as it is My original whim, My original sin, this is what makes Me be, this bliss of Infinity. It is the engine of contrasts and chaos, that generates the exhaustion of the turning wheel, and engenders the yearning to love, that enables the lover and beloved games, that makes Me consciously eternally.