Page Text: You awaken from a dream.
On the day you were born.
You were never asleep.
And you were never awake.
The Universe never sleeps.
And she never wakes up.
She heaves and breathes and twists and turns, exploding, collapsing, living and dying.
Wasting away and becoming born again.
She does not exist where she can be found.
But she surrounds us and envelopes herself infinitely.
Never to die.
But always to be born anew.
Breathing, rising, crashing.
Forgiving, murdering, disappointing and rescuing only to watch die.
Her mysteries are endless.
Our curiosity is not equal to the task.
Nor is our haughty pride.
We will collapse in her jaws.
Only to become a lovely tree whose flowers make love with bees.
Before and after we are here
Her waves crash, her sky shines with her bright sun.
Her soil pushes buds upward from the ruins of fallen creatures.
Distant stars explode creating creatures who do not know how to ask the questions that torment us.
We call her names in a whispered moment and use her trees and oils to paint pictures of a God who only resembles one of her offspring.
An animal with ears and eyes and hair and flesh and bone.
Somehow in our eyes responsible for breathing the life into her she gives to us.
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