Next page will change the play.
Next time around, it will be different.
"Next" adds to, replaces, disagrees with, mutilates, transcends, highlights, chews up, embalms, entombs and supersedes "Is." "Next" is powerful potential, a benign or malignant tumor on the rim of now.
"Next" jumps from spontaneous occurrence or marches from deliberate intention. It is an aspiration, a plan, a design or a surrender.
"Next" is an illusory projection costumed as a question, a statement or an ultimatum.
But the core, the truth, the mystery of "Next" is that "Next" never is.
So -- What's next? Is there really light at the end of the tunnel? How long is the tunnel? Is there truly calm after the storm? What's next?
I care not but swell to the lights and drama of the storm and intrigue at the soulified texture of the tunnel. I free "Next" to take care of itself and unwrap now.
Fini! No Next Text.
