A soft glow drifts over the open sky and points to the horizons of far off worlds. In this distant and mysterious land, light is tethered to the gentle breeze that flows through the deep. This appears to be like a tender whisper from beyond the savage pulse of the long night of conflict and rage. There are no perfect pictures of illumination, or anything else for that matter. Given pictures are partially opaque, yet relevantly clear, as the sufficiency of this world morphs into others as possible worlds that present new ways of being, seeing, and living.
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
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