IN the Valley of FIRE, as Babylon Burns

The park was slightly too juxtaposed with the closeness of Las Vegas and vast population, it then seemed to me the stone had tarried... The stone being something alluring, & easily answered for (social), like I wanted to find a key--a teacher in the masses, to the pre-historicity of our reception into the emptiness of those desert pallets showing Native Americans' past. ...But I wanted to find it and not deny it while comfort from being off the road, let my thoughts revolve in urban containment. This sounds like a defense of my not knowing a motive into the "attiqa"--a Hebrew word suggesting G-d's unfinished beginnings...the slow unfurling of the godhead, where our examples lie like seferot, energies, or attributes. The instincts I'd want to assume (having that motive) about the Natives having been received unto this material dispensation, the peak moment from which I look--the light of his or her beginnings hopefully understood, are my rational bent to look at some sensed image of where we can touch the earth. Though lives barely indicate what changes I'd propitiate, I am yet determined to trial my agonistic knowledge... In other words, who can I compete with, if the quiet has no face--as I'd reject civilization sooo proximal.
Just imagining how it is incumbent upon the denizen of our deserts, to feel that its grandeur of space holds you up, as opposed to the ill prospect that survival is at once your agonistic numinous trial. The myriad view as before & behind me while I sit yogin-expectant at the red-hued desert expanding, is perceptible like the feeling of an open door figuratively behind me as now. For just a moment I imagine the sounds past the threshold are channeling in merely less auditive echos as before me...a strange echolalia phenomena. Played Mark's d'jimbe drum, read, & imagined the rock as my bed--has my senses reach for the sun--the filial entity for the Indians' fate. If I can at all place iconography of human form giving way to the few steps some ancient path availing my lumbering efforts to view cosmogony--the stark indefinite desert may grant substance.

So, if I were asked, how would I describe an awakening? IT is meaning to say, for instance last night, my eyes**in conceptual meditation**saw only illumined thought-images—nothing at all what was before me; it was beautiful! I saw some psychically composed room, which I responded w/ ideation that I have “arrived,” but then there was a dense black shadow & I called it down to veil me, which once encumbered, utter peace filled me w/ an awakened spirit. I converged upon identity, for what seemed sustained venturing into long moments of time & place=--I was alone, & yet received, evolving & prone to the chambers of wisdom the Kabbalists speak of—ever reaching, but toward intangibles—still a kind of stage for communion w/ effort as the well-defined payoff. I am saying Yes to the Outward fact that would be OTHER than anthropomorphic: meaning appearances!! If someone speaks, you feel--to paraphrase B. Marley--but what if they use the words streaming from that center of awareness that says, in effect, the world collaborates in the project of your worth. (someone using your language as before you!!) That worth is your consciousness...projected!! So, now we know this occurs in self-expression, but now ask yourself, when does the light of day become concommitant with the self-conscious act that the road before you exists only as each step upon its peak surface is reaching its immediate proximation--your purblind step? Or another way to look at it, when do white noise vibratory properties in a wall facade become as alive as your mind in expectation that you see through these physical barriers? You know the walls collapse in certain epiphenomenal consciousness. This is the world acquiescing with our very solitarian trajectory thru it... So "you speak, I feel." (as from BMW's Confrontation album) But also, you leave, and the world takes a stand as we do knowing it is incumbent upon us recognize our perseverance!!