Gray straight rain, no wind, multi-dimension layers of meaning; each strand a voice of information that starts and ends at the same place.
There is initially a tangled array of random movement brought forth with an awareness of the cross-dimensional configuration showing a deep reaching tunnel of bits and pouring of perpendicular abstraction that makes sense only to the unintended.
Each carrying a spark of finality upon touchdown, only to be rudely laughed at by the wizards of universal motion. Bouncing, dancing, splattering to a river of smooth, wet rollicking journey.
Rolling, meandering films of sheen, coating the ground in an endless search for a destination while understanding that the cycle is perpetual; dancing up to the stars to await another episode of release.
It began with such directed energy of meaning and now succumbs to a humid, vaporized blanket of tranquility causing dropping lines, shunning leaves and streaming rivulets of anticipation; waiting to commune and chortle and mock the dryness that it mottles into one simple palette.
Never ceasing energy mops the residue in a retreating, shimmying, calculated tidal return; undulating shapes and recognition of the same existence being instantly different and we may not realize the illusion before us.
Each moment storing a placeholder in memory of the washing of the earth and our consciousness that flows from story to story; time telling a silent and certain rendition of rivers past that unifies its path with vibrational filaments in a sing-song lilt of joy.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 1:52 PM UTC
Gray straight rain, no wind, multi-dimension layers of meaning; each strand a voice of information that starts and ends at the same place.
There is initially a tangled array of random movement brought forth with an awareness of the cross-dimensional configuration showing a deep reaching tunnel of bits and pouring of perpendicular abstraction that makes sense only to the unintended.
Each carrying a spark of finality upon touchdown, only to be rudely laughed at by the wizards of universal motion. Bouncing, dancing, splattering to a river of smooth, wet rollicking journey.
Rolling, meandering films of sheen, coating the ground in an endless search for a destination while understanding that the cycle is perpetual; dancing up to the stars to await another episode of release.
It began with such directed energy of meaning and now succumbs to a humid, vaporized blanket of tranquility causing dropping lines, shunning leaves and streaming rivulets of anticipation; waiting to commune and chortle and mock the dryness that it mottles into one simple palette.
Never ceasing energy mops the residue in a retreating, shimmying, calculated tidal return; undulating shapes and recognition of the same existence being instantly different and we may not realize the illusion before us.
Each moment storing a placeholder in memory of the washing of the earth and our consciousness that flows from story to story; time telling a silent and certain rendition of rivers past that unifies its path with vibrational filaments in a sing-song lilt of joy.
