| p44 | The physical, never in charge of the spiritual, the soul, realizes its futility in the overwhelming burst of its possession, being known in the field of the absolute, neither this nor that. At the same time there is that care, that which the physical is now dedicated to, and in service of. Death matters not. Only care for that which the physical form is here to attend: the soul of a child, a nation, a place of peace, a body of water, a way of change, one historical day within the finite days of the world. This is the sanctuary that is the care of this soul. Soul to soul there is attendance, shelter, a refuge hidden within the physical world, a spirit that permeates if only for an hour. The cost of time is eternity. There is eternity in the hour in which neither this nor that is given reign. |