“ The ability to find pixilation amid the pixelation is at the essence of the gift of celestial Grace. ”
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 relentless persistence of Light eventually exhausts darkness.
New York had pushed and bent and bullied, driving me underground to sort out the madness and sculpt my Being with my own hands in self-discovery on its cold pottery wheel and in the white heat of its kiln. The City enabled me to learn who I really was, as a pixelated man and member of Humanity.