There was a clock
      with many hands

And the space between a certain hand
      at a specific area of the face
      (i.e., that limited space between the hand and the face)
      constituted a certain consciousness

Now each of the hands had different lengths and colors
      and different numerals and experiences upon the face
      to go through

There were black hands with long lengths
      there were white hands with short lengths
      there were wide little yellow hands
      there were thin long red hands

For one space of a hand to hate another space of a distant hand
      was insanity
      since each hand was a part of the same one clock

For one space of a hand 
      at four
      to want to eventually be wiser at eight
      was foolish
      since the space at four 
      could never really be the space at eight

Unless the space at four
      could fully realize that
      it was the space of all of the other hands

There is the limited little dull space of the segregated self
      and there is the not-so-limited timeless space of vast intelligence
      vast compassion

Which would you rather be?

One takes no time whatsoever to get to