Originally Written 7-7-15
The tragedy is that I have no stories in me. I long to tear open a door into reality and lead my people into a world beyond restrictions. But no such world exists between my ears which was not placed there by others. And even those realms have failed to capture the ever-elusive reality in which I long to abide. A realm of possibility as well as endless realization; a realm rich with the power of the undefined and the undefinable.
This must be why: If such a realm exists, I will never be able to pull it into ours by mere words, for such a world must be greater than both our world and its words. This “ulti-verse” is real until we look directly upon it. In that instant, it fades; having too much substance to abide in this shadow of a world, it slips away like a solid falling through the layers of a gaseous atmosphere.
We are too soft to see that much more real world, but O! How I long to imagine a way into it and see the place where all is real! I long to find that door to the very gates of heaven. The door to the face of God.