The Combat Deepens. On, Ye

Never Wedding, Ever Wooing, Still A Lovelorn Heart Pursuing, Read You Not The Wrong You're Doing In My Cheek's Pale Hue? All My Life With Sorrow Strewing; Wed Or Cease To Woo.

He Scorn'd His Own, Who Felt Another's Woe.

The Being Level Speaks The Language Of Art, Music, Color Shape And Pattern Directly -- A Language That Requires No Words -- Is Not Limited By Words -- Nor Does It Have The Specificity Of Words And Thus Cannot Be Broken Onto Parts That Can Be Manipulated Or Analyzed By The Intellect. It Must Be Swallowed, Whole Not Parsed, Sorted And Justified.

It's Not About The Body; You Are Consciousness. That's What You Are. Your Consciousness Is Already Out Of Your Body. You Don't Need To Get Out Of Your Body, You Just Need To Get Into Your Consciousness.

Who Hail Thee, Man! The Pilgrim Of The Day, Spouse Of The Worm, And Brother Of The Clay.