Flu Rambling

The eye of the world mistakes fantasy for reality, illusion for truth, gets tragically tangled up in the weave of attraction, desire, aversion, and judgement, trying to pin down intangibles, endlessly hungry for power and perfection, associating with the latest and greatest, winning only boutique glory, valuing content over resonance.

The eye of the soul, born of water, lives silently like a secret child, unrecognized, its matrix freedom and gentleness, unattached to appearances, its boat the imagination, its milk, spirit.

I ask myself, please don't let the eye of the world forfeit the eye of the soul.