Well, I’m Beginning to See the Light.
Some people work very hard,
but still they never get it right.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

I wanna tell all you people, now.
Now, now, baby, I’m beginning to see the light.

Wine in the morning, and some breakfast at night.
Well, I’m beginning to see the light.

Here we go again,

I thought that you were my friend…

How does it feel, to be loved? (Reed)

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The light is lurking somewhere in the moment. Somewhere in the distance and beyond practical solutions and rational discourse is the home of the insufferable and indistinguishable light of consciousness.

Heroes come in many forms, though rarely among the wretched, the weary and the disgusting souls from beggar roots in Calcutta and Lima and Sao Paulo and Los Angeles.

Living in misery, squalor and filth; wholly disenfranchised from the universal perceptions of sustainability, the heroes are but of millions in a vast wasteland of the human capital left behind to rot in the pits of our own disregard.

Such is the lot of the human race. Such is the lot of our collective psyche.

If all life is indeed suffering and ending desire obliterates suffering, then what of the archetypes of our own construct that are inherent in humanity? continue reading…