Why is a clear perspective of ourselves and of life such a slippery thing? Sometimes we grasp it in sweaty hands- momentarily- and see life illuminated in bare truth in relation to our deepest sense of self- our desires, our paradigms- but, just before the epiphany can do any lasting good- it slips away from us; it cannot be held as a photograph, it is moving fast- at the speed of light, and all we see is the blur of the light- and all the blur of light does is reflect off the things around us- so we think they are the light- we believe this is the truth and the mystery again. My opened mind closes once more on creaking hinges and all my "ah- has!" seem to fade into "huhs?". Sometimes I think that mortality is the repression of reality, knowledge and truth suppressed...And still I know that good and truth exist because what else can be missing that we all so keenly feel in the vacant corners of our lives.Black holes mark where stars once shown.
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