I sleep along the brick and mortar
I’m what collects in darkened halls
While laughter dances in white stockings
Play like leaves down Autumn streets
It tortures me this life of light
Furrows where a brow would be
What grace the things of bodies
What light the eyes of dancers
Waiting for I can’t remember
to be felt… to be seen… not a hidden thing
From our information we imagine what we want… fossils become evidence for our ideas… ideas become evidence for what we want. In the physical observable world there is only one reality. In the world of what is, consensus is not evidence.
Good science will establish what is, and lead to more good science… wanting things to be real, leads to more wanting. We can begin to examine our relationship with what is by asking , “What do I want?”.
We can be researchers… or followers
As light and sound are interchangeable the library held not only the visual memories of all the beings but the sound their living made as well… they sang. The tones were unimaginable and I won’t even try to describe them to you, but they remained since the beginning and I heard them as they orchestrated themselves into the most phenomenal symphony
In the widespread critique of belief being pasted across the web today few are the critics without the type of belief they critique
Instead of critiquing belief perhaps we could critique confusion… for out of confusion comes the wanting that leads to faith based believing and who is their that has escaped confusion