White blossoms bloom like morning eyes; unfurling into open skies. Void of questions, free from doubt, nothing lacking, time is now beyond perfection. Without a sound: without a name, they speak truth words cannot contain. Nothing to seek, no body to seek it; white blossoms... there’s nothing holy, nothing sacred. And when they fall there is no grief, philosophies, comforts beliefs, self contraction, separation, entertainment or distraction.