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With my mind I craft my reality. Dreaming, seeing, creating. Each and every thing in our reality, an idea expressed. Think about it, the world around you, every single thing, began as an idea, created, recreated, began as nothing and now has taken form.

What exists before form? This realm of ideas, from which all comes, what matter has it? Where does it find it’s substance? What are these ideas themselves created from. Where do they all go? The ones left un-created, ideas floating through time, lost behind business and creation. I wonder. Maybe they seep through time, slowly finding their way from one mind to another. Another man, another dimension, another place and time, the idea, permanent yet ethereal, traveling through the infinite, waiting and seeking fertile ground. A capable mind, a willing spirit, the capacity to create. Every potential ever, in permenant stasis, waiting for the opportune moment.

Maybe they already have all been created. Maybe we are rediscovering, uncovering, dusting off these long forgotten expressions. A combination of atoms, rearranged and arranged, one at a time, falling in rhythm into something of substance. These things, controlling our lives, the very essence of our existence, energy in motion. Empty space, filled with force, tricking us into believing in it’s permanence. Nothingness, complete nothingness, lives lost over empty space. Fighting, craving, desiring complete emptiness.

The stillness, we call it peace, absence of anxiety, sought externally, desiring and craving an absence of suffering, perpetually available, constantly present, infinitely abundant. Find it int the now, of all eternity, this singular moment, the only chance of salvation, no hope otherwise, all gone, complete.