Thursday, August 11, 2011

Early

How often I forget the sacred sunrise, the eye of God. Pantheists were on the right track if they didn't hit the nail . . . eye on the . . . pupil.

The air is different. Fewer people. Cooler.

"For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you".

What I know for sure is that people don't talk as much in waking hours, and that is holy.


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