Everything is a living symbol of that one Single Reality, the Reality of the Translucent Heart, totally engulfed in Light. No division, no duality, just radiating presence; infinite, loving, creative and intelligent. iT.
It is all converging. I can see it, swimming all around me, a sea of energy growing. This convergence is an emergence, it is a birthing. The veils are coming down as we begin to stare behind the world. The liquid screen of the digital feeds us into eternity, perceptual machinations swirling with the luminescence of Mind.
Mimicking moves slide across my chest; translucent lights flicker in and out of the eye at my heart, visions that cascade across my bittersweet tenderness. This longing becomes unbearable as a fire licks up my soul and whisks it off on wings of troubled faith; unable to let go, yet destined to be pulled up.
Surrender. Surrender to this force; learning how to let go and give in to this pulsing life, this intelligence, this presence. Surrender to the pains; surrender to this heart- this is all there is, all there was, all there ever will be. This heart is the connection to the Infinite.
Come with me, dear Children, leave behind this empty world of commodity and consumerism, of empty promises and shattered dreams- the cold sterile world of iron and machines. I beckon you into a new World- a new Earth, a New Law, a Law for All, a world where the Word is alive and well, where flesh and dream intertwine, where desire runs cleanly and clearly from the source of all being.
Words drift aimlessly, unaccounted for throughout the ages of my Mind. They are silence amidst the immensities of space. They pass like clouds over the landscape, casting patterns over the fields and forests. Life sees no language, but rather is the Word made flesh, pulsing to the rhythm of the harmonies that give rise to this prose.
There is a pulse and a flicker. Transmission is imminent. There is some energy rich beam that is filling me with information. Inspiration fills my mind, as some mercurial fluid poured into my skull. The moment meshes with eternity, and I write. There is no present but the content of the writing, and fields of connections creep outwards from my hands.
Whisps of words whisper ease and with the shift from on my knees I stand and cry from a millions words and in the sigh of tree’s upon my mother’s lips I lie in wait for the dreams to caress the streams of me’s...