The power that speaks great words against the Most High and wears down the holy ones is the conviction, in every person, that God is something outside himself. This belief boasts against your own I AM, tires the awareness that would wake, and keeps rewriting the plain law that your imagining is the sole cause of what befalls you. Under it a person feels handed over, subject to a world he thinks makes him.
The measured span, a time and times and the dividing of time, is the appointed length of that long sleep, not a doom but a set season. Man's imagining, good or bad, is always carried out, because he is the only creator there is. When the season closes and the belief in an outer God is overturned, the self wakes as the Father within. What ruled you was never a devil abroad; it was your own forgetting, and it ends when you remember.