Not this nor any variation on it. The consensual narrative is a prison cell enforcing corporeal slavery and a tragic erasure of spirit. A to Z and back again? Not a chance. Ones and zeroes call the tune. Love alone will out.

Consciousness juggles dualities to prove a point. Left, right or centre, it inevitably fails. However, the dominant narrative will remain intact for as long as duality is able to tear us apart. Bye now.

Consciousness is a sealed cave. Life continues within and without. Mind is the gap.

When there is no more, there is everything - an ever-expanding infinity. Home at last.

Integration always favours the dominant force within the given narrative. Back off. Hold your own. It’s your life, so live it. The consensual is a hoax.

Despite our tiresome prevarications, it is what is, and so are we. Nothing to do, nowhere to do it.

The mind is an empty coffin waiting for a catch. Care now, step lightly lest it might come to know thee.

Holding us down to times and places which might never have existed, memory is both counterproductive and, worse, counterintuitive. I think, therefore? Nothing.

From dreams we awake to an eternity of dreams. Never touching the earth, we theorize its existence, inflame its presence, define its fate. Yet infinity abides as emptiness. We too. had we the courage to face it.

Fear is a singular biological function translated through psychological interaction into the fearful dualities of paranoia. Fight or flight? Wanna give it a try?

The air is filled with the hollow beauty of goose calls in an act of migratory defiance. The ponds are flooded. The feathers fly. We need wait no more.

We are born to the joys of emptiness yet, deafened by the roar of tittle tattle, we drown in sorrows. Formless, we wear the cloak of tired narratives, never knowing one from another. Yet know this, essence is origin, and peace is an existent reality. Return to the long walk home.

Each to their own universe. Each a singular jumble of dualistic opinions, inventions, prejudices, and suppositions, i.e. perceptions. In short, what we see is how we choose to perceive it, making the universe no more than a dusty reflection mirroring the construct of self.

Do we really have to live a lifetime to realise we haven't? Life is solely in the making, and what’s more, now here is nowhere.

The corporeal ‘I’ quivers as a solitary palm tree on a far distant desert island. Held as absolute, absolute holds. Therein the immaterial nature of permanence. Yowch.

The ‘now’ occurs microseconds before our perception of it. In short, it’s never now, only then, and then again. Of course we can’t keep up. In any case, who’s going anywhere?

Simple and pure, less is more.

The breath of ocean, the swirl of sky. Silence is a warm blanket (or wings, if so we choose). Carried we are as carried we be.

Make the gesture, pay the price. Nothing is inconsequential. Karma is a handbag. Leave it on the platform.

Paranoia is the backstreet of desire. Don’t look now.