a good liar

Sometimes, even before it lights up the heavens, lightning strikes and there's no doubt about it. And there's no escaping the danger it might pose for others. Like belladonna, its curative nature is equally a deadly poison.

This morning, the summation of my long interest in spiritual life came like curative lightning:

"It made me a good liar."

No doubt about it. And within the flash, there was, for however brief a second, an honest smile. Nothing snarky or slick or "Zen" -- just a warm, hit-the-nail-on-the-head, smooth-without-wrinkles smile.

And of what use is this flashbulb of information?

Absolutely none -- seriously -- though its capacity to poison any 'shared' well is palpable and no fucking joke.

"Beyond perfection" is perfectly OK ... mess with it at your own curative peril.

What a bald-faced liar!

But is there anyone who doesn't enjoy a good smile?