Wrong Timeline

The Organisational Management campus longs, despite itself. It longs in its non-longing. It aches because it does not ache.

 

Organisational Management paving stones. Organisational Management trees planted in a row. Organisational Management lights just blinking. Shameless. Brazen.

So itself. And so much of it! So vast! And yet, in its paving stones. In its martialled trees. There is a shame. A great longing to be other than it is.

The desire to shed its shame. To shake it off. To cry upwards to the heavens in praise and pain and joy and mourning and regret. To sink down on its knees and cry upwards in repentance.

It knows its wretchedness. It knows that it’s a bed of sin. That’s it’s lost in its own mire.

Even the campus prays. Even the campus yearns. Even the campus casts up its eyes to heaven.

 

This whole benighted campus seeks pity. It knows it shouldn’t be. It cries out for its death sentence. To be put out of its misery. It can’t bear its perpetuation. It’s endless going on.

 

The campus becoming conscious. The campus, opening its eyes. What does it see? Itself. And more and more of itself. The campus, appalled. The campus, in horror at itself …

 

Its desire for self destruction. For mercy. The mercy of destruction. The grace of destruction. The end, come flashing down. The lightning strike. It does not want to be spared. It does not want to survive.

 

It wants to be undone. Throbs with it. Calls upwards for it. Gurgles on its own blood. Who’s going to make it alright? Who’s going to wipe away the tears of the campus?

 

The error must be corrected. The lost timeline. That’s just been allowed to … go on. To roll on in its meaninglessness.

Time, opening into nothing. For no reason. Time, exposed. Time, yawning into what? Into nothingness. Into horror. Into the night.

Time, falling into the night. Without purpose. To no end.

This timeline, plunging into the night. Closed-eyed. And crying out. Time is crying out. As it plunges. As it falls, without reason.

Time is screaming. Time itself. As it rushes. As there’s more senselessness. More dying. As more things meaning NOTHING.

The madness of time. The time of madness. The delirium of time.

Time does not want to be. Being does not want to be.

 

And who will help us?

God.

God’s forgotten us. God’s not in this timeline.