time is not a commodity that we can cook & store in jars for later use. we cannot condense space into a small cube for eventual expansion, neither can we press smiles between the pages of a book to set free at our whim, like butterflies from a cage. we are essentially helpless, yet with sincere intent to live kindly in this peopled world. we feed & cuddle our high aspirations every day, & they snuggle up to us at night. i am awaiting Your instructions, Shiva, holding out my hand to You to guide me inward to the heart & onward to beyond.
the seed is the flower, the fruit, the tree, existing at once in the heart's greenhouse, in that realm where time doesn't play its game, drawing things sequentially through our minds like a comic strip to amuse devas!