I’ve been in this space before—it seems natural, the affection of energies. Such interwoven moods, a series of underpinnings. A different type of reality, another form of guessing. So much earth, required participants, principles discussed, certainty in an uncertain land. Part censored to begin with, winnowed like wheat, much held in vibrations. So spatial, incomplete pieces, placing fragments in order, alike to puzzles. One says: “It’s untimely.” Indeed. We work the parts, piecemealing horizons, offering the best one has to suggest.
Alike to academia: the best one can offer.
We debate secular matters. We build off of exegetical regions. (In goodness, one will greet us. In response, something will register, as best as reflected.) A soul of its persistence, gathered by its understanding, days of an inner kayak, mind of its covenants. As radical creatures, discerning through fragments, part plumbed in paradox, trying to vet components—in making maxims.
I’ve been in this space before—it seems natural, the affection of being human. Many souls, differing temperaments—running a risk of one perspective: we speak to groups; it becomes polemic. We might entertain truths, held sacred to hearts: spirit of his mind, soul of his cave. To gaze off into components, to have gifts, to wrestle with critical spaces.
