Some say life is memory; memories making a string woven by the common thread of the self- I.
When one closes her eyes; Speaking less, borders dividing fall besides... To show that life is one. Ones life repeated through cycle of life and death. Killing your memory; a reboot of the mind. To create another li(f)e.
Some say,
The memories of each self alive are held in the ethereal transcendent Light. Light permeating dark; removing shadows (of) doubt. The light holds together the collective illusion of the I. The I which leaves us nevermore;
The dark is the matter and energy of th universe; places and realms which are the possibility of en-light-enment. The possible solutions so infinite; the energy web so vast and rich. The darkness (oh some say, that is death!) holding the crowned jewel; inside/everywhere here and everywhere else!
Some recount tales which regale. Esoteric meanings abound, that is the power of darkness converted to sheer infinite light~
Ashoka split his life on victory towards a path which he thought was the way; The way that was true and right (according to his nature, his ambition, his life).
Light shown upon his hide; breaks and casts the soul away; as he kneels looking at the playground of devastation. His tears wet the blood soaked earth. His spirit cries in anguish at what his will has done. And all in all ashoka sits like a crater inside the earth; Misery and death. His best efforts thickened into red blood of the innocent.
Ashoka gives his way up. He walks towards the tree and sits a recluse for all time. His nature changed with the light; bringing the memories oh so abundant of what is to be and what had been done.. His smiles evaporated into the atmosphere. His plans plundered and reckoned into the abyss.
The light cries from within; The wisdom overflows; in fervor and frenzy. The knowledge captivates no more. Release believes itself to have arrived. And so it has... from infinite light outshining creating lasting infinite third sight!
Peace
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