A baby lying in his crib

Imagine an ****** lying in its cradle and the window is open, and into the room comes something, marvelous, mysterious, glittering, shedding light of many colors, movement, sound, a transformative hierophany of integrated perception. The c***d is enthralled, and then the mother comes into the room and says to the c***d, "That's a bird, baby, that's a bird." Instantly the complex wave of the angel, peacock, iridescent, transformative mystery is collapsed into the word. All mystery is gone, the c***d learns this is a bird, this is a bird, and by the time we're five or ************* all the mystery of reality has been carefully tiled over with words. is the sky," and we seal ourselves in within a linguistic shell of disempowered perception ...