For N.

Time is an illusion made for the created
By which the still alive are always saddened and elated
But all has been accomplished beginning to the end
And all at once is happening in one to be not when

An object for the Lord of all to see and contemplate
At which the saved may always look and never have to wait
In joyous peace and happiness no living can express
Except to say contentment by, delight and happiness

Time is such an object the Lord puts on display
In which there is no present, nor then nor yesterday
Such as we the living call an object of an art
A living or unliving thing from which the dead depart

But those who are immortal will never have to leave
For which no death and always life and never have to grieve
But further I cannot describe, for I am still in life
The nearest to which I may say is my beloved wife