There was a release of the flame as the cherry had risen withen the bowl. The heat engulfing the flower, filling the glass with purity as my lungs filled with air. Flower, fire, frequency transitioned from solid to gas and consciousness followed.
Time for bed...
Layed upon my back. Shifted my hips, shoulders, ankles. Aligning the spine and relaxung the muscles drifting into comfort. The mind tends to run. To just observe the run. To not attach to the run. To allow the run. As being the run.
This then is, and only stops when we decide to place judgement on the moment.
Whether relaxed in bed finding meditation from a cannibis hit or inhaling fresh air while achieving the duties at work.
All is mind.
Mind needs no thought.
Thought is a tool.
Tools are used only when needed.
May we allow the infinite...