Rumors of light whisper on the curtain as I sit waiting for a certain message, stilling my waters, listening for a language I can understand. In vain hope I can parse the words of God, spin the story to strengthen my position, or stop this burning inside. What is the leap from this moment to none? Between what and what is found the Other? What window opens into emptiness, what ladder drops us out of the self?
Behind the curtain, a window is open.