Free Write [p.m.]

17 Oct

Waves of wonder bemuse me  and make way the tide: daydreaming a parted river as the days stream by.

I have the lifespan of a cricket. I carry a concerto on my back of sad day ends: a viola, a cello and a violin, trying to vibrate a frequency high enough to shatter the glass cage entrapping me, trapping me, captivity.

Water skipper lands on lily pad feet, four dots turn stillness into doppler diamonds until its flow and force dies–in the end, stillness becomes the water and the footprint always dies.

Destruction predetermines the absent shape and form that a new creation comes to embody and fill.

Listening to the sky, thunder cries and lightnings rips sounds of furry, together rolling through the ministry of hills, mountains, plateaus and vallies. Nature’s way is forceful but always fair. No blame to place on a snake shedding its skin; the snake will shed its skin, at the rate that it sheds its skin, and so it on, on and on.

Consciousness is a dream catcher. Synergy of space debris wove of itself a tapestry. input: breathing collapse retract react adapt synaptic snap; output the stuff of the same substance in a new hypothesis.

I am nature just the same. Sense of self creates me and destroys me, for without it I would see that the world is just in its shifting degrees because a 360 perspective unwarps the bending curvature of time where all people and circumstances funnel into me, me, me. And the world seems weighted and accelerated, intensities and winds whipping with personality and intentions and it’s just a dream weaver’s objectivity and delusions. The world is fair. I am built to sense it otherwise.

Morning may bring yellow into my heart. Underneath my skin a cold wind blows, weathering and erosion determined to work in the ache of empty spaces. Blue, sunken, heavy. Tomorrow must be better.


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