STORY OF AN HARMONY

The perfect disappointment. Time woke up early that morning. Like every morning, he said "good morning" to Space, the only friend he had. Then, as the coffee rose, he began to observe the hourglasses, which he kept in an orderly row on the shelves of his large library. The sand descended slowly, evenly. Silent. 
They were all in order. The hourglass of transience, that of the beginning, that of the end, that of harmony, the empirical hourglass, that of abstraction, that of the cause-effect relationship, the hourglass of imperfect eternity, of relativity, of irreversibility, hourglass of predictability, of invariance, that of the duration of things, that of everything passes and nothing remains, that of the fleeting moment, that of the eternal return. Hundreds of hourglasses. 
The last one was the greatest of all. The hourglass of the illusion of the mind. He drank the coffee but it had no effect. He felt drained. Not understood. Unknown. Unloved. He felt nauseous at being wanted for just a moment. Desired as a moment. Desired as superficiality. 
But rejected as a whole. In its four-dimensional existence. Men preferred not to know. Time only narrowed his eyes- With a sharp flick, he ran his open hand over the shelves, without even changing his expression. Hourglasses fell one after another to the ground. Shattering. The sand, frightened, tried to take refuge under the bookcase. 
Then Time began to squeeze. He lifted the symmetry. He removed all references. He eliminated the divisions between past, present and future. Then compressed its size. 
It became one. And the men, having become one too, began to live their whole lives at the same time. Born, small, adolescent, adult, old. 
And they lived all their loves at the same time. They said the same words at the same time. They repeated gestures and destinies. They saw themselves as they were. Without any veil. And they felt terror. Try it yourself the perfect disappointment. Time murmured. But pity came to him. He decompressed. 
He recreated the subdivisions. He put the references back. It brought back the asymmetry. He divided the past, the present and the future. It dilated. He returned to his dimension. He picked up the hourglasses. He fixed them. He put the sand back in. Everything fell into place. Do not be afraid. Everything is fine. She said. 
Everything is fine. And the sand, reassured, began to flow again. Slow, uniform. Silent.

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