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or141 150 150 John Sandbach

Leo 21. On top of a mesa, a lake of pure, deep blue.

High, where air is thin, the water of a small lake had no more awareness of its confinement than it would were it in a vast sea, and from the color that arose from it we saw that the water knew no limit to its own depth either, were there limit or not.

We walked down to the lake’s edge, and because of the altitude I labored at breathing, much like a fish might in water that has grown thin, or which has turned into a heavy mist, though the little air there was to breathe seemed as limpid and clear as I imagine those spaces between stars to be.

It was here I first saw the profound and endless darkness underlying all light, and realized the way darkness loves and supports the sun, and the wind too, and the water as well, and all other things, whose desire causes them to come into, and exist for awhile, in its emptiness.

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