How the water rose, and Godric spoke of time, and the road to Rome.

Where did the time go?, I have muttered on more than one lazy afternoon. One moment we are waking from our dreams, the next we are dropping heavily onto our beds returning to our dreams.
Of the many abstractions of life, time baffles me the most. In my daydreams, I have stopped time for all but me. Pictures of men and women frozen in whatever position when I spoke the magic words. And off I'd go to do my business, roaming the streets to see what all the world is doing in that very moment that is mine to keep.
I have begged with God for just a few more hours in a day, and pleaded with him the next to simply speed up the hours. Time is the here and now as much as it is the past then or the future then. Time is troubled. Time is magical.
The Abbot Ailred speaks of time, saying, "Time is a storm. Times past and times to come, they heave and flow and leap their bounds like Wear. Hours are clouds that change their shapes before your eyes...But beyond time's storm and clouds there's timelessness. Godric, the Lord of Heaven changes not, and even when our view's most dark, he's there above us fair and golden as the sun....God's never gone....It's only men go blind."
True, isn't it? Just like we often wonder at the end of those lazy days where the time has gone, even as we watched it away, we sometimes wonder where God has gone, even as we watched him away.