enlightenment chronicles

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i write for you
my heart is empty
without you

truewitness: where all life becomes the clay of the celestial pot thrower, there in that moment of shaping, life is pulled violently from its ocean of being and thrust into the explosion of fear, life devours the separate being, challenging its tiny heart to encompass the chaos and infinity of despair. make no mistake, you are not anything, anybody, any part of a larger whole. this is not a dream or a play filled with prearranged intermissions. you are the totality and all that implies. everything and nothing and the responsibility for all of it. denial is the hole you live in and the cold feet of truth sit in the ice borne depths of the galaxy.

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