Silver Bullet Synchronicities, Literally, Layer into my Space a Perfect Union of Oblivion
The Ying, to The Yang, Baby....

Micro to Macro, Anomalous Events Don't quite Strike Me as anything Other than Normality in and of Different Scale

A For Instance

To my Eyes, the Sequoya Tree Appears to Tower, the Highest of the High
While our beloved Earth Teachers....The Ant....Grounded above and below the Mother Clay,
Will Look at Me as a Colossal Mammalian largely Trembling the World with Weight Infinite

To the Point

Perspective is simply a specific view, an angled ray of Light, Thus Strikes the Object in it's Own Precise Uniqueness

Note of Importance

If only One ray strikes angled Light, One angle of Light just won't Suffice....Every Perspective must be Offering of It's Own Accord, thus Strikes the Creation True....

Wholeness is Truth
Truth is Coherence
Coherence is Smooth and Steady
Do I know if I'll be Ready?....Not Really

This I Do Know

All Matter is full of Wholes of Space, NOT EMPTY, but Full of Life, Feeding the Flow into Motion, Flowing the Motion of Inert Mass, Spinning the Soul to Life, Spinning into Infinite Bliss

LIFE IS BEAUTIFUL MOVEMENT

Some will make Life into Art with Dance
To Live Life at the Threshold, DANCE Your DREAMS into LIFE
Everyday and Every Night....DANCE
                                                  ­DANCE
                                                  DANCE

  ­              Bless You.....Bless Me...Bless Us All

Happiness is a tub of ice cream
Waiting to be eaten
Not some cute love story
Where every word was sweet

Happiness is reading a book
Waiting for each exciting chapter
Not some confession
Where every word is so predictable

Happiness is a teddy bear
Waiting to be cuddled every night
Not some bouquet of flowers
Where everyday was a life sentence

Happiness is spending time with friends
Waiting everyday to hang out
Not some time with a guy
Wherein you can't define him just as happiness

Cause he's not just your happiness,
He's your everything

Wrinkled face
Stands in the shuttered photograph
Pierced into the frame by winds of faded shame
The mother comes in cold from the dirt that spiced her soul
And she whispered to the brother to find a time to cry
For once upon a time began that day
The lives that were marked with protests and riots
Define the fairytales
We now live in a world with silent voices and whispered requests

Today the Singaporean sun shines
Down, to the commuters at the bus stop
Each with unique human storylines
It casts their shadows long, past coffee shops

Through, the window panes of old high-rise flats
And trees: branches, flowers, leaves. Shades shifting
Freely, on abandoned park benches and alley cats
Comfortably, filling forms consistently prancing

Beautifully, as it turns the sky pink
And the urban landscape is coated in gold
Simply, more so, than one would think
From the days of our youth, to the time we grow old

That girl
Is skin and bones
Takes long drags on her cigarette
Makes funny comments
About not eating
She's mysterious and vague
And she's not real
Eating disorders are not fun,
Or cute, or romantic, or tragically beautiful
There's nothing romantic
About worrying about
Your breath smelling
Of ***** while kissing
Someone you love
There's nothing romantic
About seeing an expensive dinner
Your boyfriend bought you
Swim blurrily in the toilet
There's nothing beautiful
About rotted teeth
And hair growing on your arms
If you think this is beautiful,
You can have it in exchange
For the ability to do basic things
I need in order to live
Like ******* eat  
It's not beautiful
To never feel beautiful
And never love yourself
So when we see ribs on a girl
And you see romance,
I'll see her ribs
As a cage
Keeping the pain in