The tension between places of being
In a waking and dream filled place it is easy to be lured down into the voice that is the single spot of darkness in a field of light.
Drawn to that voice that sullies the scrubbed clean light world you inhabit.
All the smiles and glisten is marred by the ammonia piss smell and dirt covering someone without a profession and therefore without identity.
The desire is to sink right into that darkness of the repulsive voice because in that darkness it is cold and yet a single spot of light is open upon your field of vision.
In the darkness all that is visible is the bright light, that single spot that promises to open up and clear away the awful screams and filth of which the darkness is composed.
That singular singing note of light.
You reach for it…