The Light (II)

Even with the light overhung by the trees, the light is still present. The light internal, akin to the love. This light is love. It is so attuned and so heightened, a string stretched over a halo. Walk out into the haze, the light starts from inside your eyeballs. Inside going out and not a scintilla less bright. It is hard to conceive each moment guided by this light, underpinned by it. An inbuilt pulse, the persistent ever-present love, the veil, the cloud, everything already there behind the thing shown up between it. Everything intricately-woven, imbricate, like a mosaic, bringing a pressure already blown in. Everything pulled down to a kernel. You can only sense the light but you cannot see it. In the light everything manifest slips from before you. There is nowhere to tread nor can you stay still.

What then is this behind, the ‘that which precedes it’, that thing already known? Everything blinds you and you don’t want to be blinded. Your body doesn’t want to be blinded, the persistent recognition of that which you take to be you. It is too strong, will take you over. But what then is surrender? What is the fear, the gulf inside the belly? How could it hurt you? But how can you let go when you are made to hold on? 

Where are the dots that make up the template? How to see they are chance, mere rearrangements.