About the myth.

 I am going through a wonderful period. Of mellowing out. Resting. More or less. Similar to sitting along a babbling brook. In a primeval forest. Listening to the babble. With pleasure. To the sounds of nature. This is my religion. My cathedral, so to speak. My way to worship.  The divine. Nothing else matters. Because I am in my cherished element. Savoring. A spiritual prelude. I hear nothing of politics. Or the humdrum side of life. This is the way it was.  When I was Adam. And ate from the tree of sanctity. Don’t give me all the baloney. About the myth. Of the tree of knowledge. --Jim Broede