From within, a bit of green dances out as from oblivion, an insemination of grace planted by unseen dimensions. There is no word big enough to contain the abyss, yet here it is anyway throbbing inside me, spilling into me and out of me. I am not a being, but rather an exchange; participation in this mystical marketplace is an act of being. In those first moments I knew nothing more than everything--formless were thoughts, and so they were capable of infinity.
There is action in the start of love: bursting, flowing, cascading. Healthy and warm are the colors of creation: green and gold.
In the Second Moment all matter shared a single memory. Words then an explosion, pinwheels of transcendence spinning in every direction, then finally the quiet work of existing.
Before this, none; and now, all. A flood displaced the void. Waves and particles congregate in festivals of laughter. Shapes emerge and settle into a hierarchy, unseen gravity shaping a world before eyes that have only just been made.
I cry out, "AYE, YIP, WOO" in my shrillest, loudest falsetto. Terror and gratitude return in the echo, but mostly my is yawp swallowed in the merciful indifference of created things. I gaze into existence, that mirror sweet and true. Whispers bounce back and forth--ripples across clear water: I am myself, am all, am one, we are, will be.
A Great Breath, outward and inward. Birth and death, creation and completion. In the morning I set off on an adventure into the world around me, into the unknown which is known by my atoms and cells. And my soul. In the evening I return, different from before, more myself and less myself.
A word of thank you comes at the beginning, not the end. And love is in the middle. That's all there is to it.
