The angel of absolute I is whispering a firmament of words.
If April is all about memory and desire, March is all about innocence and
experience. Clear woods, full sun, choiceless awareness.
So the universe is a phenomenon of an absolute I as we are the
circus of the universe. Monkeys see and monkeys do. This is the elephant in the
great room of the blind. Being may be useless but belief is a wasteland.
And absolute I is like the experience of deep sleep. And
this universal dream is like the self-awareness of absolute I. Oh wisdom and
love are too nondual for cats. Inhale, exhale, sneeze, and god bless you.
As if we the phenomena could usurp the blessings of absolute
I. Not even the six eyes of lions and the four wings of eagles can approach the
vanity of these two faces. To end, one must locate the beginning of this play.
Who am I? Absolutely.
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