Create your own cosmology. You are your own spiritual authority. Intellectual bricolage. It’s all right. There are no wrong answers, just words that are never real enough to capture the vastness of complexity and minds that are too wrapped up in ego and minutae to see the whole picture. I can never see bigger than my own two eyes. And that is all right. The mystery is where it is.

Algae mouth and lily pad eyes, I am hunting for the girl who knew nature again. Sickly sweet smells of the spring, I am intoxicated. Is the past finally no longer reaching towards me like a claw? Same woods, different section. What does it feel like to dance through the rings of a tree? I cannot pick these flowers until they pick me. And who knows how to dance but a river? No one will ever love as much as the Earth loves itself… Allparts bleeding into one another like puzzle work in four dimensions (10 if we’re being honest). Who taught the trees to listen to the grass? Who taught the grass to know everything? Why am I so much smaller than a blade and when will my feet run me home again? I am an angling sparrow of another age and the air has no age and the age of my breath is me. Split an atom in two and buy one get one free. Buy one get one for me. More atoms than you could ever eat.

How did I become myself?

 

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