I talked to the water. It’s quiet. The birds are singing and humming. If only I had discovered this freedom before. Carrying the current in my pockets with wisdom of the yore.

The kittens in the kitchen. And the statue in the pond. It’s as normal as it gets. Nothing extraordinary.

The burning bush was reflecting in the pond as I looked at the lake from the penthouse. Then it was everywhere. It was always present or always present after the year two thousand and three. It was a matter of recognition. Highlighting the obvious background harmony.

Bells still ring in the nearby temple. I was dehydrated and starving when I last Sat here in search of the mystic peace. Now it’s not about the law or about the people. It’s about the pure body of bliss and gnosis.

I love reading myself more than anyone else. I love the sound of my own voice. I love everything about myself and I am not talking about essence or ranking. I am talking about my everyday reality. This moment and being.