Ideas unfolding like morphing lotuses: 28 de noviembre de 2013

Heavy fog reminds me of the ocean, open space spread like butter into infinity, my eternal introspective fire crackling and sparking, ideas unfolding like morphing lotuses, pulsing with the salted waves and provoking that same excitement, the anticipation of future energies put into effect, set into positive, vibrating motion.

Suns rise and fall into darkness, blues darken into purples.

The roar of the sea is forever the present moment, gliding through barriers of air and permeating my center. The idea of love: to be alone with my senses.

Why do I write? For infinite clarification, always searching for the perfect wave I know exists, an idealist thinking of how to change my ways. To explain the emotion behind running in the mist, mini revelations forgotten, steam brushed away in the coldness, piling out of my pores and from the top of my head.

I want to find out where the road ends, let curiosity enchant me, ask questions about motives and feelings, about anxiety and sadness and anger.

Keep writing, churning, expending energy, let nothing penetrate your floating confidence. Use spaces in the mind to hold abstract concepts for later use. The idea of love as an ultimate respect for something that feels so sublime.

To feel that respect emanating back towards you, to feel the earth cradling you, holding you, punishing you, challenging you. Love is a challenge with great reward.