In man eternity becomes actual, chaotic, inescapable.
Mind imagination transforms all into story after story after story
like the waves of the sea.
And as the sea is one, so is the story.
Eternity is now, the simpleton says.
The thinking is the thing itself.
That’s why we miss it,
the weaving
hand touch word song
Icarus falling up Up . . . . .
The ocean rolls on
east west north south,
ever in one direction:
Home.
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