Thoughts move in random jumps of linear paradigms, tirelessly exhibiting the futility in their magnificent attempts to produce even surface ripples in the calm, colorless waters of the seas that fill the depths of my being. Deep currents of anguish and revulsion that run beneath them, bringing transient life to my sensory plains and uncharted islands born of untapped colors and unfinished sentiment.
What is it that I seek? I do not know. Perhaps I do not even seek the hope filled answers that may quell my fears and infectious concerns of continued purposes and potentialities of actions. The possibility of floods of relational emotions do seem to wantonly water the scorched earth of these forsaken lands in elusively desirous fashion though. And that in turn keeps the salty, intoxicating breezes blowing through the tangling vines of knowing that adorn the subtle spheres of my formless existence.
"What am I" seems to be getting a rather loud question these days and so I content myself by nagging the fickle mental facility with the contagious clusters of exclusionary arguments that provide short bursts of relief to the disease that spreads though my false soul.
And after having gone on for so long, it seems I have circled back to that first of realizations one finds enveloping the newborn self after the first waves of light and sound birth it in lucidity.
I AM NOT YOU.
What is it that I seek? I do not know. Perhaps I do not even seek the hope filled answers that may quell my fears and infectious concerns of continued purposes and potentialities of actions. The possibility of floods of relational emotions do seem to wantonly water the scorched earth of these forsaken lands in elusively desirous fashion though. And that in turn keeps the salty, intoxicating breezes blowing through the tangling vines of knowing that adorn the subtle spheres of my formless existence.
"What am I" seems to be getting a rather loud question these days and so I content myself by nagging the fickle mental facility with the contagious clusters of exclusionary arguments that provide short bursts of relief to the disease that spreads though my false soul.
And after having gone on for so long, it seems I have circled back to that first of realizations one finds enveloping the newborn self after the first waves of light and sound birth it in lucidity.
I AM NOT YOU.
