The Golden Light of the Daynight Place
There is a place where the golden light dissipates on every edge, every curve, and every heart. It is never night, and never day. Yet, it is always day and always night.
Standing on the cobblestone street, long and lined with your trees — tree beings who hear your thoughts, and you theirs.
The ancient now future-worn keystones set lane of every step. This road looks rain wet, but its gloss comes from the golden light of not day, or night. Not twilight or dusk. Only just the golden butter light of starry skies, supermoons, and sun stars.
You see.
Watch the golden light dance.
The homes in front of you, under the comforter of the daynight beyond our conception, wooden like. Yet, are as alive as the tree beings. For the homes exist in the minds of all who live here, and call this place home.
Mind beingifested.
The golden light twinkles its twirls on each of the shades of bright colors, blending our spectrum across these abodes.
Colors you have yet to know.
There is not just one home with a roof and a door and another. It is one grand home together, where everyone and everything is.
A hodgepodge of bold colored and different shaped gutters and shutters, and windows and doors, brass handles, crystal handles, stairs of spiral, ladders of rope covered in yet-to-know-green plant beings, earthen ramps covered in glowing clovers, ivy upon the edges and curves.
Petrichor, like here.
The one Home seems to reach up to the sky and beyond what the eye can see. The heart feels. Two walls. Two walls joined together as one, glowing with life.
After all, it is a creation of the mind of everyone here. And a tad challenging to describe with this human mind and its limitations.
Uniquely unique, just like the minds who create it into existence daynightly.
Bufferflies fly. Birds land. The golden light uplifts the already neon grinning flower beings. Is everyone asleep? You ask yourself.
Do I have a body?
You have yet to see your hands or feet. You know not this nightday of neither, day nor night, nor these moons and suns — but you remember the golden light of this place.
The golden light and the petricor.
You know you are awake, awake with the light. Awake with the memories!
Awake with others awake, even if you have yet to meet them.
Maybe they too remember the place of bright pieces?
Which are never really pieces, but always whole.
Awake with the wholeness of this place in all its golden light, not day not night, just as it is, without any words needed to understand the feeling of the golden place.
Do you feel it?
The golden place where all is awake. Where the heart knows, and love dances over every peace in the golden form of awakening. After having never really been asleep, yet dreaming awake into interbeing.
With radical love,
🌈💜
~namaste~
Important Note about authors who personally take the extra time to narrate our pieces here on Medium:
As of now, our human narrations are NOT calculated into our read time earnings. (Ai narration listening is, human narrations bypass any earnings) So if you listen, it would be a great help to us if you could also scroll through/read along. Thank you for listening!
Dear Tony Stubblebine,
Could we please make human narrations a priority here on Medium in 2023/2024? It would be a wonderful gift for us. Hearing the human heart behind the words brings all of our hearts closer together in humanity. And good gracious do we need this. ❤