The morning sun painted a whisper, 'Look and tell me what you see.' My mind told my eyes a mountain they saw, just like the mountain in the photograph above. My eyes whispered back, 'no, both are flat, touch them and you can see.' My little mind sighed.
The mind can create realities from shadows, seeing textures and towering mountains where there is only a flat painted wall. It is not wrong, bad, or even misguided. She simply reflects and causes shadows to come to life, calling them real, as they cast their image on an painted wall.
The sky is now blue, the sun has moved on and there is naught but the wall. But I find my eyes still turning my head to the space where mountains were framed in a walled window of light. I had a thought, a thread, when I began, but like the shadowed mountains, it has gone. I am simple and not so wise. I only know no matter what the eyes, mine or others, think they see, no matter what the mind creates from the vision of eyes, no matter all else, the truth within, the whisper of Life, knows the touch of the mountain was real.