I’d like to see doors open without keys. The display of sharpened tools on an obtuse table does not impress what I dearly hold inside- still half undiscovered, half in the process. Yet there is a smirk on the blinded tool-wishers that recollect around the table in a second and a constantly repeating cycle of watching, holding, turning around to tell the ones who are too small to see, and then returning to the table. Hold the little ones to the table for your own sake, and throw the tools away. In limitless time of absence from distractions, you and they might see the sky, consciously or by following an escaped ray. If you have the purity to hold the little one, the ray will find in it the mercy to escape from There and shine on you, dying in the process and never entering There, yet the ray knows you will live forever and it itself not will. You will live forever, and nothing else will, not even your body. So who are you fooling by wishing for the tools? Anyone else than yourself? If yes, come and whisper into my ear, and I will see your voice vibrate as you start to tell the lie. Embrace the Extraordinary, not the tools that will vanish; if you taste even a drop of the Extraordinary, you will know how you had enslaved yourself in desire for objects that are not worth your attention. You will live forever, and once you have embraced that truth, it will change everything. Everything will become Extraordinary; in fact, the Extraordinary will become your everything, and the ordinary will just dim in its unfettered Brilliance.
