we, in the development of consciousness,
the power to see this one as one...
it is the language
in so far as they create true metaphors, which must
conceptually, after it has been
lost from perception.
leave before dawn.
As the sun rises to enlighten me, my
bones are already
rustles the leaves; golden flowers chime in: Vincent
was the painter of a radiant force.
Blue tongues personify
a sun whose sparks
into the darkness, where our ancestors