.
The purpose of Existence is to
drag
as many colors, shapes and other
business in as you can leave
behind,
and then to face the dark without
them,
.
blind. To like this, you must be
the kind
that likes things, not the kind
that doesn’t.
Your eyes must never cry. But
really not
to fret: dry or wet, the question
eyes will
.
neither have to ask nor answer is
what
vision is, or could be for, or
was, or wasn’t,
could have been, or might eventually
be.
“What you see, although you’re blind,”
.
you’ll hear from something that identifies
itself as Mind-of-God, “is me.” While
your heart is beating, what you feel
about
this may indeed be of some
academic
.
interest to somebody else somewhere,
perhaps, but it’s unlikely you
will meet
him. If you sightlessly perceive
him passing
by, though, and he smells
delicious, go
.
ahead and grab and eat him with
impunity.
Mind-of-God approves of any form
of eating. At least until your
heart stops
beating. (Life is meaningless if
fleeting.)
.
When will that occur? (In
passing, whom
you might to decide to eat, of
course,
may not be him, but her.) When will
you
be gone? Everybody leaves at
dawn.
.
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