Animate breath generates flaming testaments engraved upon the secret crevices of earth. No inch is forgotten to love. Realizations of sight and sound thus drape us in braided rivers of joy.
We are immensely fortunate for the volumes of meaning within our hearts. The moment by moment acts of our human eyes piercing into the world unfold these scrolls of ancestral light.
This booming sense would be given voice in reverberating canyons of history; yet it remains cycling in too shallow eddies of tortured whisper, gasping on lost evolutionary shores, merely aspiring to life.
The scripture of life is written within the sensations of our bodies. There is no denying its palpable powers. Its beauty is unbearable to the dormant mind. The millennia blindfolded and gagged may be less painful refuge than the inevitability of these brilliant spots of light cast on the black dome of our sorrows.
However, the truth struggling to call us must not appear in frozen veils of gray, but as eruptions of multidimensional colors whirled in bright motions. It is dazzling beyond belief or faith in either gods or material forces. It is as it is.