Barely audible, once, in my visions I once perceived, once conceived of a very curious thing. Originally not even put into words I could hear: “the Tree of the Forgetting of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.” I cannot think that this idea has ever occurred to anyone ever before; such a thought in my reckoning would catch on in certain circles, would it not? The claim of this idea is the return to innocence, that which we lost in Eden. When we were naked, and we were not ashamed. Such fruit I imagined to be heart-shaped, and bright yellow, and of a fresh sweetness, no hint of sour at all. Almost seeming skinless. And to eat of it, I cannot think of what it might be like. Better than childhood. Wider in scope than an open sky.
Sing the song that songs cannot sing. Write the words that words cannot say. Draw what cannot be pictured, dance in ways the body cannot go. This is our true purpose in anything worth doing: to do the impossible. Can anything less be what is meant for the children of God? See how wonderful the creation of our Father, and dream that we may also do such things, when we are ready. When we know enough, when we have done enough. Our second birth is when we are born anew in Heaven, and we will there grow up to be as children of God are meant to be. Can we expect anything less of ourselves than what is love’s true potential? To do what cannot be done?
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