Flame of life

Below is an absolutely beautiful piece of writing which I have shortened so it’s probably no where  near as good as the original. Not sure where this dream is from. Was trying to find it because I remember reading it and it summing up exactly how I feel. Luckily I found I’d wrote a shortened version as I do with any piece of writing I love. Stupidly as usual I didn’t write down a reference at to where I got it from would be glad if anyone could enlighten me. I get the feeling I read it in a book about dreams.

 

He was standing alone at the top of a very high tower looking down upon a huge flock of birds which were flying in one direction. As he gazed in awe at this, time was suddenly sped up and he was appalled to see successive generations of birds born only to grow frail, wither and die within seconds. He was sick at heart to see this futile and meaningless struggle and considered whether it might be better if non where born at all.

Soon time sped up further so the birds became a blur. In the plain of feathers he saw a bright white flame. He knew what the flame was, it was the flame of life itself, the life force. He was seized by an ecstatic rush of realization. Nothing else mattered but the relentless momentum of this force. Nothing else was real. Every being that had lived or died were no more than dreams themselves. Except so far as this flame of life travelled through them.

 

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