Without Diluting Or Ever Leaving

We are all individual vessels of pulsating life. Pouring from the same wineskin bota bag into the same cup. Mingling amongst the same ocean and stars as separated waves, to-ing and frow-ing to be different vibrations of the same instrument. Leaping into the air or crashing ashore in a hopeless futility to expand beyond our means and knowledge or fall back unobserved. But in any group setting, there is the aura of the one in the centre, we all gather around, hopelessly magnetised. The one who fills the empty vortex and leads the way or the one who has fallen back so far, they've now become the kernel of every atom and molecule, the calm, the essence of tranquillity, but each is a brother-sister to the other. But only a few arrive at their designated core- without the duality of peace and war without diluting or ever leaving the hand that pours the wineskin bota bag. The vibration of the first lover's kiss - touching the void and filling their cup to an even overflowing fountain of love. And make its rim - sing like an orchestral symphony. As invisible as the wind, shaping just about every mortal thing.