Birds Flying.

Across The Sky.

No Questions.

Of Right or Wrong.

Just Life Unfolding.

All.

One.

Dance.

Of Fire.

When All Concepts.

Come To Rest.

All That Is Left.

Is The Absolute Simplicity.

Of The Undivided Present Moment.

The Face Of God.

There is often.

A Focus.

On an apparent.

“my life”.

When in Reality.

All there is.

Is The Whole.

The Entirety.

Of Life.

Happening.

Nothing Is Happening.

Everything Is Happening.

Both True.

At The Same Time.

The Brain doesn’t like it.

But.

If A Lump Of Clay.

Is Formed into A Giraffe.

Then A Monkey.

Then A Fish.

Then A Tiger.

Then A Clown.

What actually happened?

Nothing Ever Happened.

Clay was Always Clay.

But.

It’s so Beautiful.

To Appreciate Clay.

Being A Giraffe.

Being A Monkey.

Being A Fish.

Being A Tiger.

Being A Clown.

That’s what Clay Does.

That’s The Point.