We are the boundary: the meeting place in time and space of whence and hence, a cosmic fence of consciousness.

Our home is now, but we’re seldom there; lost instead in the daily tread between worry and regret.

We are the threshold: the only thing holding us back. Our lives are the constant threshing; our burgeoning awareness bludgeoning grains of self out of the infinite chaff of being.

Only in this separation do we chance to glance sidelong at togetherness; rarer still because once split we constantly cross barriers that change us beyond recognition; born anew each moment, yet ignorant of the difference.

We are a horizon: a line between sides that only exist because we see them, and yet we don’t.

We are a sonic boom deaf to our own roar, thinking that we are just tinnitus.

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