Mysteries of the universe are mysteries because there isn’t knowledge recognizing, comprehending and identifying with it. There is nothing hidden, only hidden from those who can’t perceive it. As we come to comprehension of reality in splendid profusion, I grow more enamored with the indicative mood. And as we draw up spontaneous plans for the afternoon, I find myself knee deep in roaring rapids, traversing a lengthy, hardly lit tunnel without a fish to walk away with and often enough I do find myself with a hint of magic supported on its own. Can’t deny it…tears to aide in patience, frustration turn to laughter, icy waters to steamy loamy grounds. Oh, the ebb and flow in this infinite stream, the work in presence and witnessing my inner tides. Dusk prepares for dawn; I’m all lit up for another round and it’s even sweeter than before.