With the apparel of a temporal storm, thick enclaves of mud, which like a fondue spatter and bubble, infiltrate the clear water puddles, narrowing the swollen arterial river ways. . . The arbor satisfied, calls unto the rain, drawing its succor into trainer and runner; and the salt-tempered earth inhales Life by the soil; and the meshes of blind-reaching tangles creep just a little bit farther. . .
THE great cities chatter with a liveliness of their own self importance, exuding, exhaling, emitting with ceaseless salvo. And to each, nestled in congregate huddle, the hidden activities provide for the unsuspecting souls ignorant to their being, and bring the gifts of the natural and extraordinary world - the combustion of putrefied ferment delivered daily into free particles; blessed with elastic renewal.
The multifarious hostels of insects, given to sprawl and bustle with laborious drive, these and their cousins, the sleeping pollens, stimulate life by activity in perpetual hurriedness. They make designs within the invisible world - that place adjunct - and these patterns of activity encore and precipitate physical being. White ant, red ant, black ant, green ant - who does count and know each one? And in swarms infesting those cavernous hideaways, they work on.
Vivacious the wildlife, protective their entourage - beings-celeste and beings-gravitae. Whisper corporeal world, that they might hear you; for it must be soft-spoken to penetrate through.
Now at Christmastide, the imp, the sprite, the nymph, the sylph, the rock-dwellers and the slime-bound creatures, the triphibious beings of the air, of light, of water, become aware of the men who stalk amongst they who ordinarily maintain a casual denial of presence. All at once they become eager to draw forward and peer and prod the manly-being before them, in wondrous curiosity.
There is a boost within the dome of general consciousness whereupon the infilling light awakens all creatures and beings energetically, that they may come to find much more of the community they dwell in. For it is generally, that we prefer to live in amongst our fellows, naïve to their being and presence.
To some they are as mere expressions of life, however detailed; when verily they are individualities composed with soul and stature, and reasonably divine! Even the mite has soul: his being extends to that soul which is his. Shared or not, he is with the importance our Father God, instilled; and the character devised by unfathomable wisdom; and we may assess this with humble respect.
Once experience has gravitated unto a man he says, "I am particular and knowledgeable and may prise this world into many pieces - I may count the minutes if I will, and discern the light from the shadows - I am not my brother, I am me, and how I know I am me is by what I choose not to be".
Then, one day in full self-realization, the precious ego-incarnate may exclaim:
I am this World and I do know it.
I am this World and this World does know it.
For I have looked unafraidedly into her face,
And she returned my greeting,
And we met on that inner plane where souls are meeting.
I am Time,
For I have aged and withered and died,
Only to return and withstand every parcel of change time had wrought,
Only to conclude that in being timeless throughout,
I am Time in perpetuity,
For it serves me, in generous latitude.
I am the light behind the light,
Where He goes, go I –
Into every illuminated recess,
From my eye to His Eye.
I have looked in His Eyes unafraidedly
And seen how the light does stream out from them.
Onto the World His Soul pours from His Eyes,
And I am that He is,
And He is that I be.
And I have offered back my being,
With gratitude which is full and pervious,
And wept with thankfulness, that I too am illuminated.
I am the full measure of all of my brother's fault and majesty,
I have tasted their salt and their sweet and become both,
Pursuing this worldly knowledge.
And from this, I love them all and know them well;
And though I know I am not them,
I remember when it was, how it was, in being as them so similarly.
And I do not measure myself against Men –
For I am only much more,
Therefore there is no distinction –
But measure myself with the god-men,
Who beckon me higher unto them.
I am mirrored in the Celestial Powers,
And I am, on behalf of all Men,
I am.
I am this World and this World does know it.
For I have looked unafraidedly into her face,
And she returned my greeting,
And we met on that inner plane where souls are meeting.
I am Time,
For I have aged and withered and died,
Only to return and withstand every parcel of change time had wrought,
Only to conclude that in being timeless throughout,
I am Time in perpetuity,
For it serves me, in generous latitude.
I am the light behind the light,
Where He goes, go I –
Into every illuminated recess,
From my eye to His Eye.
I have looked in His Eyes unafraidedly
And seen how the light does stream out from them.
Onto the World His Soul pours from His Eyes,
And I am that He is,
And He is that I be.
And I have offered back my being,
With gratitude which is full and pervious,
And wept with thankfulness, that I too am illuminated.
I am the full measure of all of my brother's fault and majesty,
I have tasted their salt and their sweet and become both,
Pursuing this worldly knowledge.
And from this, I love them all and know them well;
And though I know I am not them,
I remember when it was, how it was, in being as them so similarly.
And I do not measure myself against Men –
For I am only much more,
Therefore there is no distinction –
But measure myself with the god-men,
Who beckon me higher unto them.
I am mirrored in the Celestial Powers,
And I am, on behalf of all Men,
I am.
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