CleverCraft, Part II – Time Is Eternity’s Epilepsy

Plato once deduced time from eternity — and its motion from stillness.
When eternity descends into history, it becomes time.
And its stillness? That becomes passage, decay, the drip of now into then.

Time is a diseased eternity — infected by our presence. And the passage of time is not a journey forward, but a fall. Time doesn’t move horizontally like a river. It collapses, like a body — vertically, from above to below.

And here’s the strange part:
Time doesn’t merely flow — it flows toward something.
It has a direction. A terminal point.
And that terminal point is death.

“So time is a sick eternity? A birth defect in the stillness of being?”

The phrasing was so accurate it stunned me for a moment.
“Yes,” I said.
“Time is eternity’s epilepsy.”

But philosophy only captures the symptoms. Yes, time flows — but it doesn’t meander. Time isn’t some bored god whistling down the corridors of existence.

Time has an agenda.

It would be ridiculous to imagine that humans are born under stars, that they have destinies and callings, while time — that massive, silent architect of all things — just wanders around without a point.

No. If people have purpose, so does time.
Which means time has both telos and logos.
A destination and a reason to move.

The telos of time?
From the moment it broke loose from the stillness of eternity, time has always been heading toward one thing: death.

And its logos? Its reason?
Time speaks — but only in the present.
Logos, from lego: I speak.

Like the divine, time never conjugates itself into past or future.
It is always: I am.
Always now.

“Time says I am? Time speaks? With what mouth, exactly?
And even if it could talk — what in God’s name is it trying to say?”

Stick around. That’s where it gets fun.