Gold

2.28.09

Laying down on the couch, a warm ray of evening sun reflecting fractals on the summer wood behind me. Listening to the hum of the world, the growing seeds of time, nature, beauty, and dreams all making their silent case. Thoughts flow in to me like an ancient, rich river. I pass them on, most of them anyway. I take the invisible visions of mine and put them into text-- a rough translation by any measure. I get taken aback by it all. So many experiences are possible, so many combinations of emotions, so many I desperately desire, so many I'm starving for. The gentle music playing takes my mind and spaces it out across dimensions-- the shit I took earlier probably has something to do with it also. I seek all the emotions until I want them all at once and my mind explodes and I settle back into my world like gently falling pollen, silent once more. I can't help but retreat back to the streets, meet the warriors with their carts, watch the cataclysmic birds cast a shadow over the concrete. We'll burn between the transition of the seasons. AND.. then I told her, so tired from something in her secret youth, that I think you're going to be beautiful when you're old. She smiled something beautiful and it started getting dark. It started getting cold. The world was changing then, getting stranger. In the end, we'll all be throw down the path, through the ethereal darkness, into the ether where love dies with hate. A remote scenario.