The Real Real Deal

If one could add the entirety of what we can see and what we can’t — the supplicant on a rant, matter dark, unknowable, persistent bitterness neat and stowable – what we would be forced to examine are children wrenched by famine, a panoply of catastrophes, like man-made war, man-made disease.

We might also deign to look at an ancient (antiquated?) holy book, imparting wisdom, dispensing lessons, doling out her meager blessings to those who care to think that knowing God demands a link to better angels, vibes much higher, illuminated by your fire, the one that burns within, where there’s no hell and there’s no sin. When you glow the healing starts, proving science doth love the arts.

We know the good resides all ‘round, that humble plots are sacred ground; and if you focus on the light you’ll develop brilliant sight, an aptitude for nobleness projecting out from all of us. You see it all for what it is: a field of bounty pots without their lid, overflowing with joyful spirit. Magically magnetically growing stronger near it,  you know what truth is, you know what’s real, you know, in short, the real real deal.

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