Of Highways and Hiding Spots

I’ve heard tell that enlightenment comes as a crack in the foundation. I certainly wouldn’t know. Consciousness has a story of its own, but it told me that its lips are sealed. And I always believed every word of it, no matter the iffy look in those eyes. But I also knew that everyone was playing the same game with different rules. And I heard them say that when you awaken, you’ll be sorely vexed at the disturbance of dreams, but then must make a choice whether to remain lucid or beg the light to go away. Hint, hint: it never does. It’s a mad, mad highway, and there is not a single space designed to serve as a hiding spot.

I have met seven each from all thirteen sides of the war. Some of them were sweeter than others by degree, but down to the last they all had their reasons to curse and shake sticks. Righteous with their stones and sabers. But I, too, have run my mouth afoul at times, missed the mark, and perhaps even wallowed in the undertow of my own woeful wrongs. But so what? It’s sort of part of the process of making peace with your conscience. We grow up, dust off, move on, correct course, and make right. Signed, stamped, and delivered to the doorstep of karma. There are two scales that measure the balance between order and chaos in this world, but there is only one power great enough to judge the truth of your heart.

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