...and even boundaries feel the press of endlessness against them, whispering secrets only emptiness knows for certain. And yet we listen - finding ourselves full of understanding. We are less than what we seem, and somehow too, more. It's not that we are contained by boundaries, no, the secret whispered is that we're endlessness itself touched against temporary illusions of the flesh. The secret is the touch, it's the whisper of its own voice revealed against its ears. It's contact made by one thing only, boundaries for the sake of form and the formless kiss of it's own existence.
It's the secret of who we are.
~
As we run - we touch the world.
Peace,
Eric
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