As the memory of what was drifts away like a dream in the morning mist, we rush down the corridor of time. We are ushered into light sequences that swing down hallways that never end into a place that is not seen by the average Joe/Josephine. All humanity has seen and felt the alteration as we walk the trail of confusion, praying we are not reduced to tears.

We scamper like rabbits, our little furry feet going as fast as they can. Not getting anywhere and exhausted from the effort, we seek safety and respite. Time whooshes past us like a gust of wind, not stopping to pardon itself. Life pushes us into a corner of seemingly limited choices. Alas, that too is a grand illusion, a holographic projection of a possibility — nothing that is fixed in time.

Time has shifted, as have many landmasses. Earth continues to let us know she means business. New land is birthed and old land is altered as longitudes and latitudes dance to a primeval beat. Ley lines and phase markers are offline. An actual gearwheel in time is felt as the worlds walk into new octaves of light. We still organically walk to the beat of the old drum, however worldly perceptions are enhanced. We see in and out of time as an observer while concealed glitches present themselves as instant replays with a dash of déjà vu.