The higher consciousness of being lays beneath the fossilized version of oneself, the picture of the false, the fool dressed as a man. This matter of being is not something solid and has no name. It cannot die nor live yet it is alive. It is and will always be in a singular moment upon the crest of a wave, vibrating, reverberating, falling and dissipating motionless until the next. It's truth and nothing else. It has no wants or fears. It is in relationship with everything and nothing. Knowledge flows through it fresh, clean and translucent. Its capable of nothing but love.
I wish to be this.
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