here shall words arrive not on my lips, nor yours but still caressed
a meeting of sorts out of sorts still always flowing
an uncovering of of what what will your tongue see your eyes hear our heart sing?
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None are more hopelessly enslaved than those who falsely believe they are free.
The large-scale context for the writings on this site have been fantastically summed up by Richard Tarnas' Tale of Two Suitors.
It's only four pages and should indicate the state of mind and being from which I am attempting to work.
