What is faith but a mere settling into what is?
Wherever you stop is perfect.
Whatever you do is perfect.
This is infinite, so mistakes are irrelevant to the pattern.
You bite the apple and the apple bites back. Perfect nature.
You imagine outwardly, and an outer wind meets you flush on the cheek with delight.
Fear motivates so well, buttressed by gallons of untruth, with colossal wastes of time.
And safety masquerades, a lie birthing boredom.
Denial of fear, crafting illusion of safe, we welcome the boring.
And the unsafe beckons the warrior.
But no.
Everyone with their headphones on jogging, walking, hiking.
Distracting themselves from a death they know nothing of.