Words

Reality. Truth. Information. These frames structure the landscape upon which we look and attempt to see our journey.  Mirrors.  Ricocheted reflections of essence.  Around us, within us, within all. Words are magic, startling and brilliant, dark and shaded. The fabric of the frame. The flow of words, scintillating, yet devastating of our deepest selves. We writhe in brilliance and anguish at coquettish mystery. Forever attempting to possess knowledge, forever tumbling to hell with that burden. The glory of heaven, far nearer the soul than any fact, grows misty in the twilight of mirrored shadows. Light is far dearer than our walled illusion of safety. Better still the peace of releasing identity as “knower” to claim the birthright of “witness.” To know all as God, to rest in tranquility of faith, to orient as agape, this is the Kingdom of Heaven. Within you.