A Thousand Jewels
Oblivion breaks like the well of a dam into a vague command to do.
The atonement of ephemeral amnesia at first waking moments fades.
I hold it, keep it from branching too far, staying low, in the residual collective subjective Mind, swimming.
Everything has come up, with it now.
And I see; see all of the branches sprouted from beginningless time, and threaded together, not represented in form, but the phantasmal ether of essence.
I look out upon the vast field of form, it is always dancing.
The emptiness of the eye does not fill with the images, it streams, in an endless progression through the hollowed way!
(2015)
Something to be said about waking dreams.
