A gentle breeze,so slight as it winds its weave,between the sounds of the city.Birds chirp and singwhile cars and trucks let their metal ring.A deep green pervades this luscious land,beneath cyan hue,brushed with white by an unknown hand.This city is not tall, but it is vast.Stretching from a deep blue seato a green ocean of sawgrass.
If one were to sit before a flowerwaiting for it to bloom,most would meet with inner furor.For patience is measured in stages: epochs and eons.Perception of truth releases the space,expelling the expanse,to be saturated with silence and intention,multiplied by function and intuition,the sum of the product and equation of awareness and individuation.