Out of the sea, down from the heavens, what shall we be?  If there is a sense of having walked through a broken up road of red clay, which presages a promised migration route, then who are we to make a final check along the way?

The wild gives way to our experiment, and it is good to see how much we can accomplish, as child like and ignorant as we are.  We all live in a house on the side of the road waiting for our turn to see what grand plans await us, even if our decisions were small and almost unnoticeable.

How long have we been just playing?  It seems like ages, but really in truth not very long at all.  Gigantic movements all around us and only a microscopic window in which to move, our crawling through to an end not even nature knows, but hopes of.

Time and space inevitably push us forward, move the entire scheme of things in all directions at once forever and after before.  The inevitable becomes evident and nobody knows who they won’t be any longer, putting on roles and carrying props in a vaudeville sideshow we suppose is called life.

The show must go on, the entirety of God and not-God is watching us, searching for a performance that will unlock another facet of the unwinding, winding formula.  If we are dolls and puppets, to be broken apart in tantrums, or cast aside when through, or kept in a glass case in times of fond remembrance to come, are we not something?

When another doll leaps out of the case to crack its head upon the tile, what can be said of the doll who leaps to save that doll at the risk of going over also?  All the puppets have a life and gathering of their own, though we do not see it unless we try.

Or, even if there were no dolls, no puppets, no artist behind the strings there would still be nothing, no one, no body.  Nothingness.  The vast emptiness of the night contains all the time and space there ever was.  Nothing is anything.

Costume, actor, props, stage, lines, script.  These are all changeable.  Audience, performers, behind the scenes labor, we are all of these in any combination, at the same time or one at a time.  What happens when we realize we are both?  That we are always in truth even in our so-called darkest moments.  The additional dimension beckons to us, any day now we shall see beyond and within without, our own means of production and witness.

“My God, its full of stars.”

Happening now.