While at dinner tonight, picked up a random book from a pile next my chair. Forgot my friends in reading it. Took it home. Reading it inspired an image in my mind. This is the image I saw:

" A single candle burns. There is nothing but darkness beyond the candle. No sense of limitation. No walls to give border to the dark. The dark is everywhere. It has mass...though there is not a sense of weight. It does not press in. It simply is, a prescence. It is mass that can be moved through, moved in, stolid and fluid and everywhere. But, the candle. The light from the candle flickers. The light is a point without mass...it flutters in its own instability. Flickers as it reaches out for the dark's stolidness.
There is something at the border.
There is something at the border of light and dark.
A woman.
That she is a woman is certain. But her hair is as short as the lick of flame and as long as the boundless dark. It is all one length. It is as white as the center of the flame, as red as its tip, as black as the darkness. It is all one color. She wears a long white gown. Her eyes are at the center of the flame, and it battles over her skin with the dark. She does not notice.
Suddenly, her eyes stare up, though her face has not moved. She might be smiling, lips curved over the straight line of her body.
Whispers in the massed dark, she whispers.
"Look...what I can do."
And her body is not a straight line, not only. A curve over it, a rounding over the straight flame. The dark is present. Her rounding becomes more and the dark is fuller. The light flickers. The rounding expands, expands, something in it. Everything in it, suddenly. Suddenly, the light and dark are held together in a moment that holds all changes, all possibilities, all actions and words and movements...held in a single unmoving rounding.
It will slip from her, it will slip from her.
The moment in which it slips is also held in the rounding; as are the moments both before and after. They are all the same.
You are there in the rounding, the meeting of mass and uncertainty. You are in it. You are somewhere that is the same everywhere. Can you grasp it? No. You are it. You are a rounding within the rounding.
Grasp for nothing, and feel the circles slide. "

The book was Art & Physics by Leonard Shlain. The part I read was on the nature of time. It stated, in part, that "Time slows as it approaches the speed of light. The present moment expands from a narrow sliver until it encompasses both the past and the future. At lightspeed, time ceases to change because it contains all change."

Does what I wrote make more sense now? Or less? I can't be sure.