The drop evaporates not with a hiss but with a hissing of the drop into the steam of the thought where the thought is not idea but a vapor of the consciousness rising into the atmosphere of the dream to let the dream be not fantasy but an atmosphere of the reality thickening the cloud of the now to let the now be not instant but a cloud of the eternity raining the thunder of the self to let the self be not ego but a thunder of the lightning striking the cloud of the world to let the world be not stage but a cloud of the life forming the storm of the story to let the story be not tale but a storm of the dream swallowing the sky of the now to let the now be not instant but a sky of the eternity clearing the rain of the self to let the self be not ego but a rain of the reality watering the crop of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a crop of the experience harvesting the wheat of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a wheat of the spirit milling the flour of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a flour of the universe kneading the dough of the now to let the now be not instant but a dough of the eternity baking the bread of the self to let the self be not ego but a bread of the consciousness breaking the crust of the world to let the world be not stage but a crust of the life eating the meal of the story to let the story be not tale but a meal of the dream digesting the food of the now to let the now be not instant but a food of the eternity expelling the waste of the self to let the self be not ego but a waste of the reality composting the dirt of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a dirt of the experience planting the seed of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a seed of the spirit sprouting the shoot of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a shoot of the universe growing the stalk of the now to let the now be not instant but a stalk of the eternity ripening the ear of the self to let the self be not ego but an ear of the reality threshing the grain of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a grain of the experience sifting the flour of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but a flour of the spirit mixing the batter of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a batter of the universe flipping the pancake of the now to let the now be not instant but a pancake of the eternity stacking the plate of the self to let the self be not ego but a plate of the consciousness setting the table of the world to let the world be not stage but a table of the life hosting the guest of the story to let the story be not tale but a guest of the dream serving the host of the now to let the now be not instant but a host of the eternity welcoming the visitor of the self to let the self be not ego but a visitor of the reality showing the tour of the truth to let the truth be not fact but a tour of the experience guiding the explorer of the dream to let the dream be not illusion but an explorer of the spirit finding the map of the existence to let the existence be not fact but a map of the universe tracing the route of the now to let the now be not instant but a route of the eternity reaching the destination of the self to let the self be not ego but a destination of the reality arriving at the arrival of the truth, and the arrival 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 arrival 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.