You make an idea, an inkling, but it’s just an abstraction, not real. You aim for it, but of course your arrows aren’t going to hit it. It’s not really there. It’s a ghost, a thought, a dream.

So you keep working, you work and work and work and work, rising higher, moving stronger, sparks and filaments and fires of life pressing you up, growing you deeper. And finally there’s no more mere concept, no more mental notion. Now you hear the sound of a heart beating. Now you hear the whistle of the wind in your ears.

There’s something there. You built it with your dreaming energy. It’s flowing in flames, growing in strength, a glow of activity, firm.

It’s alive. 

Sharply humming, a vibrational disc lifts you . . . ready to integrate, weave you into the plane. A plane with starry threads, and real enough to stand on. It’s like listening to somebody breathing. You know they are there.

Now you can aim.

Shoot them right through with your arrow of love!