Seeing is done with more than just the eyes. Peel back enough of the sack cloth and your heart can see, too. Draperies adorn your window only on the inside. . . can you feel me?

The movement under my feet isn't the planet giving way to my weight - though it can be that, too; sinking. The movement under my feet is the growth of life overcoming; despite me.

The Kingdom is at hand. And this is true. Truer than anything I've ever lived to tell about. I don't own anything people value. Not time, not money, not love, not my child, not my spirit, not my body, not my music . . . nothing is owned by me. I'm a perpetual renter.

And the more I disown, the more I belong. This has been ordaned long before me; as if this were a shifting photograph, I AM.

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