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There comes a time in a man’s life that he begins to be aware of a world his senses cannot read, cannot describe, lacking the ability to grasp its form yet strangely aware that it is there…
Like a man that has traveled through a garden of great beauty then suddenly comes upon an empty open wasteland, a desert that yields nothing to the senses, it strikes him so that he reacts from the blow, and yet a tiny voice so impossibly true whispers “it is there”
In that vast nothingless “it is there” and all the beauty that has been known before seem to refill the senses with their saying “we are but a beginning”
The heart leaps out of itself as if to draw the senses with it into a completely new way of knowing, and the senses begin to understand that it can know, it will see, it will smell, it will touch…
But not through the old way, “yes it is there” an indescribably more beautiful garden than the one that has been traveled before…a garden of the spirit.
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