I'm dead. It's the third time this week. From the perspective of creation,. everything is happening this week. All of it. Everything. Not quite all at once but still spectacular. Outside of time but not without duration. I watch.
I watch myself. Doesn't matter who I've been or when I've been.
I'm everybody, every time.
Watching every argument I've ever had. Each one with myself.
I don't yet know why I put myself through this but at the end of the week when I merge with my greater self I imagine I'll know. Until them, I'm in the awkward position of a raindrop hurtling down to the ocean. there's a lot to see but most of it feels like a rerun.
A lot of excuses. A lot of explaining. There's really no difference. Hundreds of languages, epochs, bodies, reasons.
Lies, from the perspective they're all lies. They distract from the essental truth.
I swear, if I get reincarnated again I'm going to do two things.
I'll hear no excuses or explanations from anyone.
I'll make no excuses or explanations to anyone.
I will never say I'm sorry. Instead, I will say it is my fault when it is or I made a mistake when it isn't.
Or I'll say nothing.
So many of my arguments were petty inconsequential issues that did nothing but waste time.
I could manifest a heart so that it might ache. I am aghast at how much precious time I wasted.
"No, you didn't ask me in time."
"You should have thought of that before."
"I had too much to do."
"It's not my fault you scheduled the appointment in the middle of rush hour."
"I don't see your name written on it."
And so on, all the way back to primary school. So many times over. If I weren't approaching transcendence, I think I'd manifest a stomach and digestive tract just so I could puke.
I'm nearing the ocean. Just another drop of me. My perspective begins to shift, I consume and I am consumed by the waters of the deep.
I gasp.
Where are words for this fierce obliterating love?
I AM.
Gropius in 12 lines times 4 words
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