As we are about to depart for the East Coast, I am sitting by the window feeling a delightful, warming breeze envelope my skin and the vibrations of the muse are striking the chords of expression. I can waste no time but to write:
I am sitting in a realm of nowhere able to leap tall beliefs in a single bound.
I writhe like petty waters that fear the ocean is too big to swallow,
In the midst of the agony of life I come to some terms regarding my existence.
There is truth in the epicenter of my gut and the motion sets me reeling.
Where do I go after this and by the way what is this to go from?
Many of the orderly things that penetrate the daily workings of the mind are silent.
I move ahead hoping to glance upon the realness that is my ever abounding life.
I am wasting precious time.
Who calls me from deep below and whispers hopes and dreams into my imagination?
Who corners me when I feel naught and soothes my angst with a balm of forgetfulness?
I am the monster in the mirror that created the story in the first place.
I am the source of all the ramblings my imagination can hold to.
“Twas brillig and the slithy toves” I murmured in a instant, without the thought of why or how I get to these strange out landings.
For I am the truth untold and all the realm is mine to behold.
I fathom and I express, I stutter and then I manifest.
The way is my way and no other.
Where I travel next makes… no never mind.
It is only the absence of thought that thinks that I am not.
For eons I shall dwell on nothing that is current and time shall have no play in this being.
For I am the fly on the wall in this show.
ⓒ 2010 CosmicObserver