The clock does not tick, but our joints creak more and more. The calendar, also, is arbitrary, yet we find ourselves yearning for another Friday.
I have wondered about time. If time may be considered a conduit, does it slide back across our present, or do we march bravely forward?
If time is only ‘change’, there are too many different times. Can we hope to incorporate the whole?
This is my opinion (and nothing more): Time is a multiplicity of presents that exist in unison. A single entity travels forward in cycles, with no one particular present ever waning, or winking out. Each passage through the loop sees all the separate presents somehow changed.
In this sense, the past is never lost, but is always the present; the present is never lost, but is always the future.
In this sense, prophecy is only memory. This is the short version of my thoughts on time, but what goes around, really does come back around.