“ New York City is where specks of dust aspire randomly with all their cunning to become grains of sand. ”
Maybe, life is a kind of waking dream.Maybe, it's a double-dream with a false awakening.Maybe, the dream only becomes lucid and truly luminous given the fuller perspective of life after one's own wake.Maybe, the pictures never stop.Doesn't the existence of dreams and higher consciousness during the years of blackouts of a lifetime, whether longer or shorter, give us a valid premise to hope that another highly spiritual state may await our passing?
~ David B. Lentz
I became the fractured shell of a mustard seed to dwell for an eye-blink amid a starburst galaxy of broken dreams.
The ability to find pixilation amid the pixelation is at the essence of the gift of celestial Grace.
The relentless persistence of Light eventually exhausts darkness.