I said it once and I’ll say it again and again and each time a little bit different because languages plays like literary outlines

10 Dec

that illustrate concepts so peices of me and pronounced and annunciated and tried on, taken on and refitted form fitted, collateral  down payment in the bucket of truth commissioned to the greater memory bank of which my share is worth no more no less nothing and everything. I write now freely and I hope to exorcize the truth I know is within me deepseeded in a place past where words can wobble around its diluted and I want to see clearly this pre programmed knowing and for a moment go back to the place from which I came before I was born and sure nough must return to after I do. Distinction divided by the unquiet mind for the unquiet mind and because my inside me is creaking slowing moving plates like tectonic groaning of paradigms shifts sorting out the strongest structure that is my true nature, soft enough to have a sembalence of silence but a stretch to fully understand and I want to get to know mysef and thus everything that is everything i mean everything. on that level but listening to something I can hear only as faintly as the hum of tommorrow, knowing it is there and will come, impatiently with open gates of perception my time is spent listening hearing listening abstracting trying to take to infinity the horizon because the line does not break and goes right through me to my shokra that I know defines me. The gut, the fire, the curiosity insatiable inexhuastible  like the miracle of the eternal flame my own furnace that does not will not cannot stop burning. energy cannot be created or destroyed so why waste my time in this game of life, creating and destroying, all in all distracting and making a ruckus, focused on the dashed distinction of death and life towhile living on layers on top of layers of being alive. how i want to be. just be . just be alive. alive. eye. i have got to find a way a wave a shockra to tune into like the frequency of energy beaming m through me that is me the same as what i am all that is, like the spoke on a merry go round, but i am the horse, the prideful for better or worse matter of shape and form that blessess and curses us all in the joy the sorrow the attachtment to yesterday and tomorrrow and not now because clumsy worldy me is caught in the verse of the song i sing and cant get past words to bellow the mellow tune turning my head towards the sun and flickering furnace notice rred flags my ears perk and mind works and heart follow it burns i burns but do dont consume or create really just be, be like the eternal flame and brighly be part of the energy of matter, the mass in the mass, the lackthereof in the lack thereof, the light the canonical calling and flot.

that illustrate concepts so peices of me and pronounced and annunciated and tried on, taken on and refitted form fitted, collateral  down payment in the bucket of truth commissioned to the greater memory bank of which my share is worth no more no less nothing and everything. I write now freely and I hope to exorcize the truth I know is within me deepseeded in a place past where words can wobble around its diluted and I want to see clearly this pre programmed knowing and for a moment go back to the place from which I came before I was born and sure nough must return to after I do. Distinction divided by the unquiet mind for the unquiet mind and because my inside me is creaking slowing moving plates like tectonic groaning of paradigms shifts sorting out the strongest structure that is my true nature, soft enough to have a sembalence of silence but a stretch to fully understand and I want to get to know mysef and thus everything that is everything i mean everything. on that level but listening to something I can hear only as faintly as the hum of tommorrow, knowing it is there and will come, impatiently with open gates of perception my time is spent listening hearing listening abstracting trying to take to infinity the horizon because the line does not break and goes right through me to my shokra that I know defines me. The gut, the fire, the curiosity insatiable inexhuastible  like the miracle of the eternal flame my own furnace that does not will not cannot stop burning. energy cannot be created or destroyed so why waste my time in this game of life, creating and destroying, all in all distracting and making a ruckus, focused on the dashed distinction of death and life towhile living on layers on top of layers of being alive. how i want to be. just be . just be alive. alive. eye. i have got to find a way a wave a shockra to tune into like the frequency of energy beaming m through me that is me the same as what i am all that is, like the spoke on a merry go round, but i am the horse, the prideful for better or worse matter of shape and form that blessess and curses us all in the joy the sorrow the attachtment to yesterday and tomorrrow and not now because clumsy worldy me is caught in the verse of the song i sing and cant get past words to bellow the mellow tune turning my head towards the sun and flickering furnace notice rred flags my ears perk and mind works and heart follow it burns i burns but do dont consume or create really just be, be like the eternal flame and brighly be part of the energy of matter, the mass in the mass, the lackthereof in the lack thereof, the light the canonical calling and flot.

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