The Flowing Light

She has become intoxicated in the contemplation of the noble countenance.
In the supreme power she loses herself
in the most radiant light
she is herself blind
and in the greatest blindness she sees most clearly.

In the greatest clarity she is both dead and alive.
The longer she is dead, the more happily she lives.
The more more happily she lives, the more she learns.

The less she becomes, the more flows to her.
The more deeply she lives, the more open she becomes.
The more forbearing she is.


The deeper her wounds become, the more she rages.
The more loving he is to her, the higher she soars.

The more radiantly she is illumined by his colorless green ideas,
the closer she comes to them.

The more she strives,
the more peacefully she rests, the more she understands.

The hunt begins. And the hunt ends.And she hunts in between.


The more his desire grows, the greater the strength of their bond.
The narrower the bed becomes, the closer the embrace.

The sweeter the kisses taste on their lips
the more lovingly they look on each other.

The more painfully they part, the more he gives her.
The more she consumes, the more she has.

The more humbly she takes her leave,
the sooner she returns.

The warmer she stays, the more readily she sparks.
The more she burns, the brighter she glows.

Tell me again
about spooky action at a distance.