And so the wait begins.
Again and again.
He is encouraged to take the plunge into the unknown and discover the mystery of his own life where every action becomes an effortless, appropriate response to whatever life brings him. And as he tries to peer into his future, he imagines things too big for words; and so he stumbles. A condensation of myths that become a flat crystallized mass. His reality is a rounded thing that pulses. It overflows the mold of words. He cannot tell what they are doing. He can only radiate himself. That is his form of expression. Take it as truth, as you pass by this thing that is not a blog: he is yours.
