[click on image to see detail]
The arrow is time, fleeting past so quickly for each of us. Like all of us here and gone. The arrow passes by in silence but for a whisper. The woodpile is us. Here now then gone, the rocks and the field remain.
In time… we exist suspended, held by the two unending eternities… forever, all time past and forever, all time to come. You and I, the here and now living share this instant. That’s called life… and the realized experience of it. We only have the moment, so seize and hold it as the now of the arrow, out of darkness into light… be aware, be aware, hold the instant.
Illustrated in Tom Forrestall:
Paintings, Drawings, Writings pg. 110