Awareness being self-aware is scientific myth—where science
is just another story and mythology is fact articulated in the language of
lies.
All thought is simply a virus like an Asiatic bittersweet
vine and love is like the next tree over.
If the past is prologue, the preface is the way to original
face. June and it's not easy being rare.
Forgive yourself. Heavy lies the crown of creation. Enjoy
this ode to joy of June for there is where the absolute is living.
And the black hole sees itself within the sun. The Nova Scotia
fog is lifting.
The colors of a dream after waking to the fact that black is
white or vice versa.
Dropping off body and mind is like a flower. The fragrance
of true eyes. In the name of pure awareness and all projection.
No preface. No afterword. See what. Touch who. Hear where.
Smell when. Taste why.
Nothing but the net of now. Do you want to know a secret?
Consciousness is the fountain of youth.
Different tribes. One truth. Anything other than one or zero
thinks it's one or zero.
Growing old is my latest koan. Poetry isn't real. Late night
perambulations. Trust is like a unicorn.
First there is belief but there's no belief but there's what
there is. Love without check is instant karma.
Karma without love is a hungry ghost. The holy grail is not
an object. The renaissance is all about
perspective.
Nothing beats trump but no trump. Henry David Thoreau. Leo Tolstoy.
Martin Luther King. Arjuna.
See through you. Like crossing the Mojave Desert. You can’t
make a horse drink but you can’t lead a person to water either.
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