On the Continuum of Creation

Think of your spirit

as a fish in the sea.

When caught

and eaten,

it will taste of every moment

of it’s life left behind.

Seen in this light,

one recognizes

there is no good,

no bad,

only balance.

Every living entity is judged according to its capability to represent itself completely. A rock is undeniably a rock, because it’s history is made apparent to anyone who cares to study it’s markings. The things that show, of course, are the places where one has been broken. Broken and broken and broken again, the essence of temporal infinity is evidenced. Who are you, and do you really think that what you think reflects the world upon you?

Look into the face of one who is drunk, and you will see them completely, all of the emptiness and connectedness transposed on the same surface, an endless well of nothing and sprouted root of everything.

The spirit does not get drunk of poison. It is intoxicated by what is poured into the world at every breath, by each demanding pore of skin, each eye and stomach of every thing which serves as a cup formed to savor each moment. The spiralling ooze of time over constantly shifting surfaces. There is a direction to the wind as it blows. Bound by nothing.


Author: manderson

I live in NYC.

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