Beauty and the wild and free

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I think that you have to be careful, about saying anything definitive. Because the conversation is present, and active. This is not a closed loop. This is not a complete sentence. You are not solely the reader. And i am not solely the writer. We are of a fabric, in the course of being spun. In the process of being worn. Serving as warmth in the winter, and cool in the summer. The context is infinitely elastic, but not without its edges. I think that that is what we can do. We can feel, and describe those edges. As the ridge, is the origin and birthplace of awareness. The meeting point. Which is no point at all. If not an infinite stream, of atomic palaces. So I don't even say dream. Because that leaves out half of reality. And yet equally, if you stick just to reality, you can overlook possibility. So I hardly say a thing. As I don't want to cover anything, with just anything. The apple's atom does not belong in the pear tree. But we can graft these things. And sometimes that creates something fun, like a swing from a tree. And sometimes something wrong, like a splinter in a knee. Pure misery. But neither is this permission to do nothing. The trick is to know the in-between, which although etymologically means two, actually means 3, the latter being the *element* of the relationship. You have to know the difference, between ❤️ 💙 💚 While still knowing, that the three together, make a pure white stream 🤍. If you say just one is true. You're wrong. But if you stick to the other side, and insist on the opposite. You're wrong too. And if instead, you sit silently, in the center, your participation means nothing. You kind of have to take all sides. At the appropriate times. To say everything. Without saying a single thing. And this is something that comes quietly, effortlessly, immediately from the eyes. From within the soul. As it possesses all colour. This is what a camera can capture. And freeze, in light speed. Like birds. Silently perched. Suddenly parting the tree

What did you just see

Beauty, and true recognition, have been taken from nearly everyone. Uneven by their own eyes. Uneven in their own minds. Uneven from their own hearts. So long as there is suffering, peace cannot unfurl her nova quilt. Yet to end suffering, peace must unfurl her nova quilt. The stoic says: i cannot laugh, because there is suffering. The sage says: to end suffering, you must laugh. At your own participation, in the foolish, in the frightening, in the believing, in the fluency of the unenlightening. As though peace, and love, and light, were merely words on a hallmark greeting card, or a pre-teen’s poshmark sweater, or a master’s pulpless prayer. Together. And nevver. Forever. There is more to it than words. And there is less to it than actions. In original timeless space. Division is the ultimate forbidden infraction