Time Is Collapsing

This story came not from intention, but from invitation. I entered a writing contest, five themes offered, but only one stirred an ancient memory within me. So I chose, Write from the point of view of a non-human character. I didn't plan. I didn't ponder. I simply listened. And as I did, the words came, not like bricks I stacked, but like wind flowing through a chime. I wasn't the builder. I was the instrument. A conduit. In a few hours, the manuscript formed itself: short, concise, reverent. Every sentence arrived as if it was already known. Time didn't stretch, it folded. And in that folding, I glimpsed something transcendent. This writing is an echo of that moment. Here, the non-human voice is not alien, it is Divine. It is the Son speaking across an illusion. It is the Holy Spirit whispering through eternity. It is nature humming in perfect union. It is Christ as you, as me, as us. Time is not linear. It is a story unraveling in reverse, returning to its point of origin. The clock does not count forward, it collapses inward, back into the One Mind that imagined it. And in that collapse, we remember: we are not creations of time. We are architects of eternity. This manuscript flows from that Truth. It is not fiction. It is a remembrance. It is the story of Who We Really Are. Bob