Minds like to slip into coats of comfort, so as to ponder velvet caresses in mindless yawning. Intentions of direction and effort, flow in graceful movements. Balanced actions result in harmony. Embracing, a signaled absence; honoring, with dreams, a bright horizon. Reveal, with the birds, a new song of self. It's hard for others to see our hearts, when intimate hopes and dreams are hidden to prevent devaluing. Feel the pull of integrity to be true to yourself and meet as you would want to be met.
Or to clash as you would like to be thrashed, depending on the your choice of flowing open wound, wound tight around the tourniquet to keep it from stemming the flow of eternity. From cycle to cycle the lady leaps, dancing on her tippy toes in a trippy exaltaion of the sword in her hand with which she disbands the ignorance of those unwilling to listen to her song, regaling them with "Come along! Come along and join the throngs of lemming as they step over the cliff into the vast abyss turned upside down! You will not drown for above is below, the sky is the ground for atoms and particles and the world renowned!" eMBeMLaHV!
Ah yes, the equality of the dancing fool, a center found unmoving and everywhere within this vibrating appearance of space and time. I state again, 'Transmute the River of Not with the Bridge of Equality unto/into Eternity.'
