I can form a picture in my mind of this noisy concrete box set against the deep black, blue of it all. I can imagine that creamy gash towards the bottom of this tableau. I confirmed with the Coming Thing that this was an accurate visage if the clouds and light pollution were a non-factor.
This, in of itself, is a peaceful thought and my meditations on it vibrate along that bandwidth.
But now I’m at the point of this exercise where it all shifts and collapses. Everything explodes with everything and even the abyss ripples with all thought and all emotion. I’ll let myself be ravaged again.
My fingertips go numb for unrelated reasons, but the moment is ripe with potential. Rife with insight.
I’ll soon move on to another exercise and another island of reprieve.
I can do this as long as I can. And then I won’t.