Ignorance—darkness—
is bliss for the underworld creatures:
they see it all as colored.
But place your hands upon your eyes,
blindfold yourself as you are now,
and attend to what stirs within.
You will see lights,
shifting colours,
yet those hues are nothing more
than the clarion rehearsal of vision,
the faculties of sight
testing their own capacity.
These colours are only potential,
waiting to unfold,
born to blossom in correspondence
with the true world,
but never yet touched by real light,
never yet awakened by reality.
So long as we remain caught in the Matrix,
we mistake rehearsal for the play,
illusion for being,
capacity for truth.
