They are like dreams.
Once here, then there.
Or gone.

When insecure, they cling to one.
Not letting go.
As if that matters.

Nothing more than frozen frequency.
A whim?
A shadow of a dream?

The essence of a field,
that makes the person be.
The person that may dream.

A random name around the land.
Chosen to teach us humbleness.
Dreaming with us, we dream within Him.

Realities become what our minds wish to matter.
Existence is a trail of that Spirit detailed by Yeshua.
Geometrics are patterns of existence.
Truth is learned, never told.

À propos,
how often did you notice
a white armored SUV?
Google it, see that most return black.

Photo by Daniel von Appen on Unsplash

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