Ever notice how when you awake it is morning
and at a funeral there is both a wake and a mourning

And when you sleep it is evening
And in a dream anything is possible.


much is the same at the funeral for the ego.
at the rising light of the Sol.

as above, soul below.


remember the language of the dandelions...

when darkness of night rises, they turn their yellow faces away. when the sun comes out, they turn their yellow faces to greet that which brings life, light and warmth. The sol.

they have no thought, simply to be, dandelions who possess no conscious, subconscious and unconscious, know more, then a billion brains who have all 3.

the ego, finds its validation in further dilemma. where there is no dilemma, there is no ego.

sometimes the best answers come from viewing a blank sheet of paper. where there is no pattern, except the one within the mind of the observer.



just passing through.

i return to my thoughts elsewhere.

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