Eventually, it dawns upon us, that we are alone in our togetherness and the task at hand is to follow, not like sheep, but to follow. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, not for the beholded to speculate. Or is it? Which are we? Which are you?
There is a certain sense of play around space and time and specificity combined with a new found rigor; a system, an equation from which form seems to peak its familiar head.
Maybe it is all coming together, maybe it's all falling into place, maybe it was there all along and we had to go away for a long time to regain that peace in our gaze. Maybe not. Maybe we've been here all along waiting for this and now it's happening.
Decisions will be made.
Roots will spread.
Wheat will grow.
" Also, as I lay there thinking of my vision, I could see it all again and feel the meaning with a part of me like a strange power glowing in my body; but when the part of me that talks would try to make words for the meaning, it would be like fog and get away from me." Black Elk
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