( lorenzo blinks )

metaphor misuse .......or the shadow of it.

We are all one, everything including ourselves, light, darkness, and shadows is but an aspect of that one

I am thinking, what is the shadow of the sun--meaning is something more immense making the sun cast its own shadow. I feel that this is obe of my better prose pieces: it is what I do, no vocation in it--the science is literary. Don't take this as a biblical traditionalist perspective, rather, I am taking back the language of the Literalist.
What we experience above the sun is hasidus, an immanent release we feel from loving-kindness. There is futilty below it. This isn't a consignment of flowery talk just to embrace pathlessness==a letting-go! The probably first empirical enumeration we would not have avoided, was the sun as the healer...of woes, brings us into transition. A Polish author's book about travels in Africa, he as a reporter in the mid-20th century, has a title implying quite oppositely what the implications of what our early life contended. The sun may cast shadows, but what is the shadow OF the sun caused by? Just to jump ship and remit everything to G-d exiles you from reason, as the imagination's narrative is our point of reference in having faith. Again, if you jump ship, didn't you see the fall on the way down... Observable Release, or more conventionally "rational thought" is become your mystical endeavor. Don't say, ahh but you have to have faith, that you won't drown. I'd ask what of faith was in your mind as you fell prone? "We screw the sun just for fun, we paint the moon mystically true," as Linton Kwesi Johnson the Immanent reggae poet relates. Out west about 40 minutes N.E. of sin city, was the park Valley of Fire, & it was slightly too juxtaposed with the closeness of Las Vegas and vast population, that it then seemed to me the stone(s) were tarried... This is the desert under the sun's worst prowess: 4000 yrs of habitation, yet this world seemed incinerated. The stone was something alluring, & easily answered for (social), like I wanted to find a key to the pre-historicity of our reception into the emptiness of those desert pallets showing Indians' past. ...But I wanted to find it and not deny it while comforted from being off the road, letting my thoughts revolve in urban containment. This sounds like a defense of my not knowing a motive into the attiqa--a Hebrew word suggesting G-d's unfinished beginnings...the slow unfurling of the godhead, where our examples lie like seferot, energies, or attributes, say the cosmogony of Beauty. The instincts I'd want to assume (having that motive) about the Natives having been received unto this material dispensation--the light of his or her beginnings hopefully understood, are my rational bent to look at some sensed image of where we can touch the earth. So, man's nature--nature et al is found even perhaps in urban ubiquitous devolution. Though lives barely indicate what changes I'd propitiate, I am yet determined to trial my agonistic knowledge... In other words, who can I compete with, if the quiet has no face--as I'd reject civilization sooo proximal. The sun blinds, its shadow is denied...what would it have been cast upon & be seen?

What is the color of your shadow?

Let me tell you the story of the Viking ghost. Sved had all the advantage. He was born to lose though. For when he took any advantage or position during the invasion, his girlfriend sobbed uncontrolably.