Wednesday, 13 July 2011

Seeking new truths in the flapping of the butterfly’s wings.

The last truth before the new endings of other flapping things upon clumsy landings is let fly into the wind: the butterfly is told its truth in wisps of flightlyness.

The problems of discord are solved in the butterfly's flight. Bright is the butterfly's flight path on the empty sky. Bright is the truth of the butterfly's wings: full of colour but their colour is vacancy, is all reflection.

Light spreads its mesh in fine strands upon the perceptions of the mind. All hail the butterfly and its quest for completeness.

Think of the butterfly, my fellow butterfly: the quest for the moment in us all in a fleeting instant continues in its present absence from our consciousnesses like an abscess on our brains.

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Welcome! Here, be Platonic, be precise, be concise, do not lie, do not mock, do not giggle, do not do the fandango in your mind as you comment. In effect, be one with the butterfly as you think and converse here.