The inner mind, the staircases in the library of mind. Older now and on the seventh level. I walk a narrowing galley and wonder how much more I can learn and store in the inner sanctum of this current life.
Of which I know not of its potential limit, in a life, I think as if storing in boxes what in reality we acknowledge as organic matter. Unpleasant to view but in the mass of it all are words and pictures hard to believe for in I in this organic mess produce and call it a sensory life.
Loading The Gun
The order of death is loading the gun, open the barrel, with a click, it is ready and polished and all a fine day is predicted upon. Which we will see and our eyes see all we need to see. We are tired we need rest from the wicked ones let us get this done whilst there is strength of purpose in our divine hearts the evil of the body politic must be rendered down so we can be free and breath again.