All that you see, all that is in your mind, all that you have experienced, all that which breathes within you, exists only because you are.
The inevitable change assures gently that illusion is reality and the rest a seeming.
The carousel of life goes on; from the darkest night to the brightest morning, from black and white to the rich spectrum, you pass by. Humming a single note, you pass by.
The end, the beginning. Remember?
You created the rainbow as you saw it, you replied to the mountain when you echoed, you walked ahead to make it happen, you looked behind to say goodbye, you stopped to realise and what was beyond came to you with an epiphany.
Illusion is a friend. Fathomable, it is the reality.
This piece is a marvel. It totally reflects the signs of a great writer in the making. The words used, the flow of thoughts, the theme – an absolutely marvellous conversation. Applause. 🙂 🙂 🙂
A conversation that fulfilled itself. Great!
Thanks a lot!
Like always….and vice-versa too…you are most welcome. 🙂
True that. 🙂
Very nicely written 👍
Heh heh 🙃
I remember Wittgenstein’s talk of talk being images. But he lacked sparkles. Illusions has it all 😉
Ludwig was busy with language… and our Voltaire was French, he knew l’ étincellement only too well. 😛