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The Pale Death on Dying Void

There is this choice in between the worlds, this ignorable transition taking place.

This Tearing, this dissolving, this tearing but not tearing, this thing, this thing that goes in all direction and not one.

The mind traveling in all directions, having all these conversations, yet my heart, this heart, this no-named heart, knows what to do when that no-mind, is no-where.

This Voyaging heart knows that all these things, all these things the mind makes, they truly are not different, they are not real. It is all the same, the same thing. The same voyage, simply different landscapes, the stage being rearranged.

These worlds I say to be fighting, this battle in between the worlds, is no battle, no worlds. There is none, they are none. This fight is not real. This imaginary fight, this made up war, this distracting war. Not classifying it as non-important or important because it is both and none. They, it, are, is an illusion, set for the avatar, so that the voyager may pass through this labyrinth, this pale light blue, in between the red blue.

An illusion tricking the avatar making it believe it is going through something.

Like when cheese is put on the mouse trap, only luring the mouse to its death, that hungry mouse, to its pale light blue death, turning then to green.

The Avatar as the mouse and that who watches the mouse, the voyager, that silent voyager, death, after death, death on dying. The No Man, pale clear, pale light blue clear, the silent nomad.

 Luciernaga, Spirit Radio

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