Setting on the shore of a black and calm lake. An occasional shooting star and jumping fish.
Black holes absorbing light just as my pupils. Perhaps they are just the universe observing itself.
Reality shimmers as a crystal. A crystallized form of manifested dreams.
Reality begetting dreams.
And dreams begetting reality.
Which came first.
With every breath I am reminded of the wind blowing in forest canopies.
The smell of pitch.
I like the bark and stones and mushrooms and snow and grass.
Smoke wafting upward like departing souls and drifting thoughts.
Heart beat as an ancient drum.
Connection just as looking over a vast landscape to the setting sun.
And pondering – marveling – at the moon without logical reason.
How many other people have stared at the moon?
Surely all things for all time.
And thus to watch the moon is to be reminded of our interconnection.
Of our greatness and smallness.