Inside of every rhyme there is a line that defines what it means to be art, to be a part, to be a thing, to exist inside this cosmos that’s unraveling, traveling ever farther into the towering abyss and it’s so wide we cannot miss, so deep that it may keep us locked beneath for an eternity, what a calamity but I will not resist because this chasm is just a spasm of the neurons in my mind, a place inside this brain that I cannot find, a space that god misplaced that straddles the mundane and the divine, this ephemeral enchantress that contains every star and every planet, this nugget inside my head, neither living nor dead, it’s a vortex of color, a tornado of wonder, a masterpiece of imagination and thunder, and when I slip underneath is when I finally feel at peace.
I relax the iron reins of the trap that is my self inside this brain, this little loop of worry that makes my sight so blurry, blind and stumbling through the blizzard, I find it humbling to consider that this **** is just a pattern of some quarks and if I concentrate I can shirk it, work it out of sight and end this blight on happiness, lift the veil and finally see that reality can be accepted and enjoyed, the self can be destroyed and I can float in that abyss, a sea full of art and emotion, a technicolor ocean.
When the self is around my eyes go dark and I drown and sink deep, but when I relax these chains there’s a beautiful change and I swim and I float, drifting with the beauty as each idea passes through me, becomes one with me then leaves free, just swimming through the sea, no longer the thrashing of a monster but a rainbow bloom of jellyfish, jetting between the islands of infinities that are conscious beings.
I swirl inside this nebula, twirl gracefully, gratefully dissolve and disintegrate, happy to participate in spontaneous creation, the collective imagination of an infinity, free to float, free to flow, aglow with possibility swaying to and fro, finally able to let go.
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