If this world always believes itself to be one of touching encounters, of exchanging words, of doing instructions, of making love, the attitude of the being experiences itself as an alien event. Self-driven by the sense of responsibility, awareness, care and respect, the direction points the way into the fire's own embers. The sound of one's own blazingly foams, withdrawn from all opinion. All that is taken along is left to rest. Faith's perseverance of that touch, whose honour's feared, seen in truth's core. That turning away from the gathering of the experiencing over the observing touches the seeing, the only being realised in the always having been.
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