Because I am, all is. Because I think it is, all is my
projection. Because it's my projection, it dances to my tune. I am the piper at
the gates of dawn.
Once I think something's good, it's automatically implied
there's something bad. But there is no thing but my projection.
For there is no like nor hate but only love, my first and
last illusion.
I love the sound of peepers in the spring evening. It sounds
like...awakening. Deconstructing consciousness is bound to be the very next
phase. As if the absolute is self-aware and this appears to be an evolutionary
universe of being becoming self-aware. Dis-identifying first with the body and
last with being, pure awareness is spontaneously self-aware, or so it would
appear. Yet awareness being self-aware is a package deal. As if to dream the
impossible dream. Frogs alive!
Consciousness is the only medicine and appears in many
forms.
It just feels like there should be fireworks tonight and
then I remember to listen to the peepers.
There's past in those peepers but there's something present
too, like April mixing memory and the holy spirit of evolutionary intent
towards…this
dream of self-awareness.
When intent appears, it registers in memory as a bolt of
lightning ever-present. And when intent appears, it registers within the
present as a flash of synchronicity. Thus, intent is the Trinity of: awareness
being, being knowing, knowing awareness.
The smell of spring. The revelation of the spring. The
genesis of springtime.
Nature's first green is this sharp splash of peepers in
awakening air.
Singing love, synchronicity, and dreamtime.
It's as if my living room is Cold Mountain come the springtime
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