
We look though our lenses and try to reshape what we see from the colourations that we are habituated too.
Constantly and willfully banging square pegs into round holes.
As water on rock, carving our soul.
Ceaseless karmic waves.
Samsara is nothing more than friction in a straw tube.
Ten thousand Chinese finger prisons.
Our inertia's, habituations.
One moment that which we call "I" ceases to pull.
And we Awaken.
Copyright David Doyle 1/2023