An excerpt from the fictional tales of The Wandering Monk.
Seers throughout time have been prophesying a great end and harvest of humanity. Yet that end has yet to come. Every deadline set has thus far failed. It is my belief that this type of thinking is in error. I concede that the world is a fabricated affair, but I say that existence continues in perpetuity.
There will be no single great harvest. Existence is more of a garden in which souls that ripen are plucked while those still growing are left to mature. In fact it would be quite incorrect to harvest sprouts not yet ready. It is therefore not our duty to rush those who are still sturdying their stems.
Those of us with heads already in the clouds need not focus on the material plane lest we cause strife amongst those seeds still buried in mud. We are not the gardner but simply fruit ready to be gathered. It is only amongst those ready to receive, that we should concentrate our shine and polish.
What nourishes differs between young and old. And we should not lose ourselves in conflict with those occupying an immature stage. We are not in competition to rule this garden. We are role-models to be sure, so we keep our composure. And we must not see others as being in a static state, but perceive each in a process of progress.