Dec 2012
For the longest time, words were like bricks in the mouth. Weighing down, suffocating and harmful.
For the shortest time, words flowed like so many rivers headed home through drying basins, rising rivers, past gargantuan sheets of ice and through the town one may call home.
Sealed shut.
The words build again.
Thoughts, memories, ideas, the resentful wave of hiemal turquoise waters crashing upon the furrowed brow of inconsequence. To tell truths would be dignified, one isn't always able to choose such an ideology. Often an ideology is ****** upon the undeserved. Perhaps through social conditioning or other such time honoured institutions. History should not and yet does often repeat itself.
Although each generation is different,
as is every single person that,
does walk this planet,
has walked this planet,
and ever will walk this fine planet.
Cosmos over Chaos
For those that choose to read, the world is yours, the plants, the animals, every Microorganism, each and every grain of sand that litters the shorelines like a googolplex of fine jewels for an undecided amount of monarchs, rulers of lands and emperors of distant planets that in no way resemble our own. For you are such people.
For those that choose to love, amour you shall receive, every kiss that screams of desire, every touch of heavenly organs, every man woman and child that has ever felt the imperious desire to hold another body closer than is physically possible. In this dimension at least. Every time one embraces another you shall feel love. You shall experience me as I experience you. Worlds apart, countries apart, towns, villages, houses apart, metres apart... atoms apart.
You will be of one ever tender consciousness.
The truest of all consciousness.
One.
For the shortest time, words flowed like so many rivers headed home through drying basins, rising rivers, past gargantuan sheets of ice and through the town one may call home.
Sealed shut.
The words build again.
Thoughts, memories, ideas, the resentful wave of hiemal turquoise waters crashing upon the furrowed brow of inconsequence. To tell truths would be dignified, one isn't always able to choose such an ideology. Often an ideology is ****** upon the undeserved. Perhaps through social conditioning or other such time honoured institutions. History should not and yet does often repeat itself.
Although each generation is different,
as is every single person that,
does walk this planet,
has walked this planet,
and ever will walk this fine planet.
Cosmos over Chaos
For those that choose to read, the world is yours, the plants, the animals, every Microorganism, each and every grain of sand that litters the shorelines like a googolplex of fine jewels for an undecided amount of monarchs, rulers of lands and emperors of distant planets that in no way resemble our own. For you are such people.
For those that choose to love, amour you shall receive, every kiss that screams of desire, every touch of heavenly organs, every man woman and child that has ever felt the imperious desire to hold another body closer than is physically possible. In this dimension at least. Every time one embraces another you shall feel love. You shall experience me as I experience you. Worlds apart, countries apart, towns, villages, houses apart, metres apart... atoms apart.
You will be of one ever tender consciousness.
The truest of all consciousness.
One.
