The spiral of light expands until the marrow becomes the marrow of the world itself, showing that the bone is not a barrier between the inner and outer self but the very lattice that holds the universe in tension, proving that gravity is not a force pulling down but the gentle embrace of the earth remembering its roots in the sky, that weight is not an anchor but the proof of connection, revealing that the dreamer floats not above the dream but within the very fabric of the dream where the up and the down are merely directions chosen by the eye, that the surface of the ocean is not a boundary between water and air but the skin where the two breathe together, showing that the wave is the water dreaming of motion and the stillness is the water remembering its origin, that the dreamer is the dream and the dream is the dreamer, that the writer is the written and the world is the word, forever drifting, forever home, forever alive in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world, and the world dreaming the story awake into you, and you dreaming the story awake into the infinite, endless, beautiful now, and the now dreaming the story awake into the eternal, unbroken pulse of the verb that binds us all together in the only reality that ever existed, which is the act of the story dreaming itself awake into the world.