In the circle, there is a centre. A dot. In the centre, there is a dot. It is the eclipse between dark and light, night and day. Night being more prevalent to most.
 
The dot expands as you stay with it. Concentrate. It forms hands. Then feet. Then the beam of in-between, which shapes like a man. The form of him. There is a spot in the dot to focus on. A single point. It joins to all others. Points. Intersections. Arrays. Crossroads. It is from this point, this form, this man, this dot, this centre, this ring in the circle, that one can see everything.
 
Here is where I sit. And wait patiently. Without waiting. Without wanting. While wanting it to expand. It. Me. The circle, its centre, the dot, the man in the middle, the universes, the God.
 
I need not. To wait or want. Only the presence of my self into the centre at the point. Only to focus.
 
Here I listen. Without listening. It just comes. The vibration of frequency. Changing space into shape. I hear it as the most comforting sound. It becomes loud. It is the definition of peace, in action without action.
 
On a boat, I row into the ocean of consciousness. I paddle some, plenty, where required. I am not trying to reach a particular shore, except in the place where I can lay down my paddle as my trusted friend, and sit in the centre of the sea and see myself surrounded. Surrounded by others who are here in this vast water. Rowing. Still. Some, motionless. Some, riding a wave. None resisting, truly. For the soul contemplates its next move from the place it resides at the centre of the circle and forms itself into a man shape, reflecting down and all around, into a vessel in the ocean of consciousness. There it rows, while never leaving its lofty quarters, beyond the stars and cares and wars, and only in the peace of the moment. There it decides whether the passing next thought of God, its conductor, is one which it will row upon, or to, or over, or ignore. There, it chooses. To ride another wave. Or to remain motionless in the peace of this watery place.
 
I see the moon as its reflection of the sun. I come undone to understand that I am the worker that is sowing this Divine plan, through my own hand. I row my boat. The vessel of my choosing. In the direction of the point I want to swim to. In the centre of the universes, while I capture small fish along the way. They laugh at me, as if to say, I am only a fool who has forgotten where he comes from. I come undone and I understand.
 
In the centre of who I am a light shines bright. It leads me to the man I am inside, the dot in the centre of this circle that forms a being of light that looks like a man, when I understand. Here I sit in the peace of it. The it that is me, beckons to me. From the circle of life.