Tuesday, February 12, 2019

Snow in Pleasant Valley—playing in the math

Snow doesn't fall—it just forgets. Paradise isn't lost—it's just misplaced. Snow doesn't coat a universe of forms in white but my sweet lord reveals the absolute within without.

The truth is, all belief is make-believe, and the one believing must forget this truth. Light falls and mountains appear. Glaciers form and flowers are reflecting in the fertile sands of a desert mirror in Four Corners.

It's light to light actually and not the legendary matter of dust to dust. This is what a butterfly calls self-awareness. I came, I saw, I conquered is the story but here's my trinity of actual experience—

I am, forget I am, Revelations. If the box is mind, thinking outside the box is no-mind. Burn down the intermission. The power of three is the seeing through two.

If that which is natural is that unknown, and this which is known is mathematical, then non-doing is doing the math. Given, absolutely one can't be known by zero, and the absolute one can't be known by two,

self-awareness is that holy trinity atomic power trio love. As samara is the absolute forgetting, and revelations is divine imagination, so consciousness only is nirvana.

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