There's nothing to be done but undo what has been done.
Being is universal and the visible universe is its body but
the world is just its dream.
Or only the absolute is real and being is reflection,
mirror, and objects closer than they appear. Yes, the frogs are strong tonight.
Where the buffalo Rome and the dearly infallible play at
being Holy Father occupy the dream but resist identification.
In the desert, there are no trees to measure skeletons and
skulls. In the rainforest, there are waterfalls to apperceive dependent
origination.
Living in the city of the gods, there are skyscrapers and
everything. Now you can call me Tao or you can call me I—but there are no
words.
Abracadabra genesis of birth. Hocus-pocus apocalypse of
death. Warning: nondual deconstruction may result in one befalling nothing.
The white bird sits in her golden cage unaware but she is feeling the burn.
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