I will stretch deep into to comingle with the world and she will yield for me her rich and inner secret treasures. Everything I want to absorb, all peoples and all places into a throbbing speck of light, the clearing of an impression, a mind continually liberated from the mist of fog to see vast peaks reflecting off of dazzling waters like the eastern lights. I go now, I leave my sojourn at Reed, the world is going to open up to me to yield her most delicate, her superlative, and I await, and I receive. Everything is reforged, reshaped, remade, everything is glowing hot and cooling in the whisper of the wind the deep of God is going to reveal itself to me and not in the simple and the pithy but in the elaborate and the complex, the rich with various levels of meaning, until the hearer and the speaker fuse in a new unity, not that singularity of thought that is driving towards simple ends, but the sudden realization I have spoken of that the ends of the world are perfectly consistent and compatible with the means to achieve them, that the act is infinitely richer than the product and yet the two are fused, that in a paradox life unfolds like the delicate tendrils of a flower revealed to the morning sunlight. And so I return.