Reaching toward the Highest I can conceive; the yearning and expanding heart leaves desire, thought, and form, far below and behind. No more are there words to describe that taste of the wine. Coming closer, losing my-self toward what can be. I leave that too, and yearning for re-memberance carries me higher toward a new and ever growing one. Further, more expansive, yet closer. Giving up all search for my self I bathe in what I am and look back and include my search. What words to explain - to dissect, to convey? Nothing but what is. Breath, and Love; Joy, and Harmony; Peace, Knowing, more. These are not it and can not tell. These falsehoods, lies of separation. How can one fit the ocean into a bottle?