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Reflections at night when the dark is good and we see farther. A short meditation.
Brief Tales on a Whim.
Meditations on the 60th Anniversary of Hiroshima What would the end of the world entail? Do we boast that we can imagine such a thing?
3 short stories. $3
In the apprenticeship period hopes are high.
The manuscripts are under $8.
Many times I wanted to stop thinking. It was enough to try and figure out what was happening but I didn't want the mind to get nutty on me as it would taken out of its comfort zone. I finally figured out that if I simply observed the thing around me I would settle with the brain chatter and lay quiet up like a kid in a hammock and rock back and forth or so it seemed and look at the light and feel the darkness and depth of it that was the deal, falling through it for all time it felt like some times, just falling on empty air that had no stir to it but heavy and a presence.
I did feel special or brought out of the litter so to say for some reason. That I would never return to Earth the same as I left it and would never experience things the same way. No, I was taken up and away for a reason and that thought kept me going for a time.
I thought it probable that there were others and that I would run into them at some point.
It was magnificent to see simple survival. What a miracle! Out where we weren't supposed to survive without the benefits of clever artifacts every moment was, as they used to say, surreal. I knew I had witnessed the reason why it happened this way, that is, on the surface of the Earth with its billions of souls and hearty build ups over thousands of years to produce this light and smudged thing. They came over the mountain passes and settled around lakes and rivers. They hunted on the plains and steppes. They huddled and laughed, pointed and made comments. Brazen and proud, laid low and humbled by a lover or an enemy. The pride in craft and honor! At every turn there was murder and treachery and those who hated murder and treachery. Celebrations and dances! The nude turning around the fire of dark men. Absurd tales from the wild mind shaped by the intervals of love making. Endless tears and endless contortions and leaping to try and get off, to separate and become something new. And men were reasonable for a day before the wrath came.
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