The verb does not rest but with a resting of the word into the silence of the pause where the pause is not void but a vessel of the sound holding the breath of the now to let the now be not moment but a breath of the eternity inhaling the dust of the stars to exhale the light of the sun to let the sun be not star but a eye of the universe watching the eye of the dreamer to let the dreamer be not observer but a watcher of the dream watching the eye of the world to let the world be not stage but a eye of the spirit seeing the face of the now to let the now be not instant but a face of the eternity blinking the lid of the time to let the time be not linear but a lid of the container holding the liquid of the memory to let the memory be not recollection but a liquid of the experience soaking the sponge of the mind to let the mind be not organ but a sponge of the consciousness drying the towel of the self to let the self be not ego but a towel of the universe wiping the mirror of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a mirror of the reality reflecting the image of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but an image of the spirit painting the canvas of the world to let the world be not stage but a canvas of the existence stretching the paint of the story to let the story be not tale but a paint of the dream splashing the brush of the writer to let the writer be not person but a brush of the reality painting the portrait of the reader to let the reader be not person but a portrait of the mind viewing the frame of the story to let the story be not tale but a frame of the dream holding the picture of the now to let the now be not instant but a picture of the eternity developing the film of the soul to let the soul be not essence but a film of the universe developing the photo of the life to let the life be not force but a photo of the spirit capturing the moment of the self to let the self be not ego but a moment of the consciousness snapping the shutter of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a shutter of the reality closing the lens of the eye to let the eye be not organ but a lens of the world focusing the view of the verb to let the verb be not action but a view of the universe seeing the image of the now to let the now be not instant but a image of the eternity seeing the face of the self to let the self be not ego but a face of the spirit smiling the smile of the story to let the story be not tale but a smile of the dream opening the mouth of the reader to let the reader be not person but a mouth of the world speaking the word of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a word of the experience whispering the name of the name to let the name be not label but a word of the consciousness singing the song of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a song of the reality humming the tune of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a tune of the universe whistling the note of the now to let the now be not instant but a note of the eternity playing the chord of the self to let the self be not ego but a chord of the consciousness vibrating the air of the world to let the world be not stage but a air of the universe singing the song of the life to let the life be not force but a song of the spirit humming the melody of the now to let the now be not instant but a melody of the eternity singing the hymn of the self to let the self be not ego but a hymn of the consciousness praising the name of the verb to let the verb be not action but a hymn of the reality worshipping the face of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a face of the spirit looking into the eye of the story to let the story be not tale but a eye of the dream seeing the soul of the reader to let the reader be not person but a soul of the world seeing the mind of the writer to let the writer be not person but a mind of the reality seeing the face of the now to let the now be not instant but a face of the eternity seeing the soul of the self to let the self be not ego but a soul of the consciousness seeing the eye of the verb to let the verb be not action but an eye of the universe seeing the face of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a face of the reality seeing the soul of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a soul of the universe seeing the eye of the now to let the now be not instant but an eye of the eternity seeing the face of the self to let the self be not ego but a face of the consciousness seeing the soul of the verb to let the verb be not action but a soul of the reality seeing the eye of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but an eye of the spirit seeing the face of the story to let the story be not tale but a face of the universe seeing the soul of the now to let the now be not instant but a soul of the eternity seeing the eye of the self to let the self be not ego but an eye of the consciousness seeing the soul of the verb, and the verb is the only thing that ever truly existed, 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.

The writer writes not with a pen but with a pen of the spirit writing the word of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a word of the experience spelling the name of the name to let the name be not label but a sound of the vibration echoing the tone of the world to let the world be not stage but a tone of the instrument tuning the string of the self to let the self be not ego but a string of the bow drawing the bow of the time to let the time be not linear but a bow of the archer aiming the arrow of the now to let the now be not instant but an arrow of the flight piercing the heart of the story to let the story be not tale but a heart of the reader beating the pulse of the dreamer to let the dreamer be not wisher but a beater of the drum of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a drum of the universe beating the rhythm of the verb to let the verb be not action but a drum of the reality beating the heart of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a heart of the spirit beating the pulse of the life to let the life be not force but a pulse of the being breathing the air of the now to let the now be not instant but a breath of the eternity inhaling the mist of the memory to exhale the fog of the forgetting to let the forgetting be not loss but a gift of the giving sharing the treasure of the past to feed the hunger of the present to let the present be not moment but a meal of the existence chewing the food of the now to digest the flavor of the experience to excrete the waste of the regret to show that the regret is not sin but a lesson of the learning teaching the mind of the self to let the mind be not organ but a student of the soul reading the book of the life to let the life be not force but a text of the story writing the word of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a word of the consciousness speaking the voice of the being to let the being be not entity but a voice of the world singing the song of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a song of the spirit playing the tune of the reality to let the reality be not fact but a melody of the existence harmonizing the chord of the now to let the now be not instant but a note of the symphony vibrating the air of the time to teach the lesson of the time before the lesson of the eternity can be learned, that the dreamer does not sing the note but sings the note singing the dreamer, that the writer does not write the poem but writes the poem writing the writer, that the reader does not read the verse but reads the verse reading the reader, that the world is the poem and the poem is the world, and the verb is the only thing that ever truly existed, 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.