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Sep 2018
Gloriously swept away down a beautiful corridor,
both thought and experience.
The light seems purposeless, and the newest of all eyes begins receiving the inlaid context springing to life, and they all seem to like it this way.

No obstacles, only a clear path beset with many delineations.
It's the very real idea that any and all paths are yours to be taken without regret, absence of remorse.
The skin prickles itself to life. The body convulses, yet remains still.
It's the inward reflection, the silhouette just beyond the corneas that's dancing.
And even if you wish they could feel it, there remains a beautiful selfishness about keeping it to yourself.

No matter, you bring it forth with spring charged steps, composed breath.
It's the example you set, the smile cast forward as a fisherman's net, capturing all the unwilling fish.
No need for verbal explanation, they'll understand if they choose, but again this is simply for you.

Your touch carries a power far more kinetic than a lightening bolt, your look renders them catatonic. Filling with questions, but overwhelmingly more so joy.

"I want what they're having."
A simple sentence you now know as prophecy.

Urging them, "Dance with me, while motionless, speak with me wordlessly, carry me without the burden of strained muscle, exist with me amidst the beauty of this corridor, and its choices."
There is a definitive, deafening buzz, it's LIFE, you can hear it now in the purity of this silence.

This cannot be contrived, so you open all of what was once you, to forcefully experience it.
You no longer feel your heart beat, only the rhythm of others, who like you choose raw existence over questions; which would only serve to break this incredible transition.

It's not from where you came,
or where you're going.
It's stationary simplicity, and everything
seems to move with you, not around you,
almost through you.

Leaving reflective vibrations which resonate not to be felt,
not listened to, but understood, not explained, remaining a ripple generating outwardly without pause, without cause.
"Please don't explain me, don't expose me."
In this silence it's truthfully the loudest.
Christopher Miller
Written by
Christopher Miller  42/M/Florida
(42/M/Florida)   
767
 
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