I dance with my Mother beneath the blue flame of Her skin silently begging not to be born again, and She laughs, and She sings, and the Die Man rings.

This is a difficult thing to explain, but it kind of reminds me of this observation of subatomic particles, where you cannot determine both WHERE…

Maybe there’s a quickening, a hundredth monkey, a millionth Buddha. Maybe its you, maybe its me…. Who do you say that I am? I am…