I lie on the ground within the 4 Hawthorn trees. I expand like a liquid poured. Outward. Familiar embrace. Soaking into the soil. A moment of detail and abstract thought. My mind is a stone skipping over the water, connection on impact with the surface. Realization.  I am layer of the Earth. Connected again. Our separation could only be temporary.

 What makes a chair a chair? How do I select the broad concept of what is a chair in a world of variation? The organised objects look like a smile. Generalising.

I wonder if the Upperworld forms part of Crane fly legend ? The collective consciousness of Cranefly behavioural ecology? The Upperworld. I wonder if that is what it's really like being a Crane fly. Eleven months  tunnelling through the ground as leather Jackets eating grass roots avoiding Rooks , Starlings Crows, Shrews. Craneflies are a big part of the food chain as food. Imagine living like that ? Driven by  the dream of love and light.