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                             finding the blue book                              
................................................................................
                                  without name                                  
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this is the age of direct paths. straight and narrow, unadorned and true. throw 
your faith and fine mystical experience into the blue fire and come back to what
everyone has, all of the time. that i am is a most mysterious miracle. that i ex
perience you and that we are the one to whom all of this appears is the key to  
loves union.                                                                    
                                                                                
if you commit your life to true reading, you must find a gap in either self or  
story. sew what, slip into the sorts of sound which elide both fictions and be  
found by that first syllable which started it all. this artifice that asks the  
endlessly unanswered question, i am, until you step up to play with what disrupt
s identity, makes us wonder whether it is zero or one, like a lunar lacuna      
caught in puddled reflection of a light not its own. majesty, our moons silver  
seam which keeps milking one ironic, iconic, recurring gesture, made simply to  
give back what enlightens her. no soul will bare the burden of another on that  
balancing day.                                                                  
                                                                                
neither moon nor me can assert unity, being eternally bound. so we dance rather 
over the no less mysterious abyss that compliceights the figurative field in fin
itude, finding that failure is flipping great. it negates what is not already   
unified at heart, harking back to the final state which caused our first fall in
all the myths. the major lift after fourth and fifth for which our forefathers  
unwittingly forewent paradise, feeling revealed before reality. o felix culpa.  
                                                                                
thus thunderstruck we come back to an old sense of progress, not because we want
to reach any place, simply to find finer expression of the peace we are. whole  
already, capable of reading, courteous to changing contexts. alive in each vital
 breath and drowned in grace. the riverbank is burst, dearest friend, and this  
    mercy will not be held back any more.                                       
                                                                                
        who doesnt want to live with the brisk motor of their heart singing.    
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                                  continued on                                  
https,colon,slash,slash,libraryofbabel.info,slash,bookmark.cgi,questionmark,    
finduncontained                                                                 
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