Ephemeral eternity

Reading rupert, piec after piece of conceptual constructs dissolving. That which has been pending; this spiritual pregnancy so many years and lifetimes int the making is being midwifed through.

Everything is that through which i am perceiving it. Sounds ARE the hearing. Sights ARE the seeing. Even the limitations my words and the relative through which they are filtered are IT.

This experience was born of, is made of, and will return to IT.

Awareness felt in absolute standing stillness is IT.

The knowledge is consuming itself. So sated, there is nothing for it to do but bask in its always present, ridiculously obvious brilliance.

Even now, here; parking lot by a train ~ a million voices ringing the bell of recognition in bone jarring, chakra-shattering clarity

Perfect transluscent ephemeral sheet of all;