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The Madman, "Yes, three days, three centuries, three aeons. Strange they would always weigh and measure. It is always a sundial and a pair of scales."

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

(149)

We nest in perfect love,
Free of bonds that tie us to each other.
This is our story,
Yours and mine
And everybody else’s.

In the beginning only we were
And then in the end,
When we step from becoming into being,
Only we will be.
All through it, everybody is us.

We keep running
Away from and past each other,
An illusory oscillation
That starts time’s tick,
Securing equilibrium-
Elusive, incomprehensible stability
That weaves itself into a state of more obvious dynamism
To give cause for the sudden appearance of
A dimension or three,
To which they finally say,
“So it began.”

So it is
And so it shall be.

A spiral that returns to its source,
Every moment, every speck,
Every season, every sea,
Everything is only what we made it out to be.
We came from us,
It’s there in every cycle, in every pattern.
In every symmetry,
It’s there for us to see.
We make up everybody,
Everybody part of a single being.
No matter how far we may seem,
I know,
I was born in you
And you in me.

4 comments:

  1. Such perfect trust and love, it's beautiful to read...

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  2. This's piece leaves mme dumbfounded. Like I know this and I could never put it to ink. As if it was floating like consciousness here and around. And u picked it up from the universe and said it so beautifully. Dumbfounded.

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