And timelessness what happens now.
Either way, there's no escape....
Assuming anyone could find the cage
In the first place.
Soft and smooth and uninsistent as a mouse belly, I storytell this morning and everyone is just a rainbow. Rainbow literal; rainbow metaphorical. So colorful. So inclusive. But as I say, uninsistent: Beauty and comfort are not the point.
And at the end of the rainbow is a pot of gold. Which does not yearn for that pot of gold, a guaranteed treasure that could hardly be called a treasure since it is so personal/impersonal? Day after day, moment after moment ... seeking the gold at the end of the rainbow. A surcease and resting place, colorless and rife with color. At ... last!
At last a place where beginning and end are whipped together like egg whites. Is the end the beginning or the other way around? Death is minor. Birth is minor. But the twinkling.....
Ah, the twinkling.
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