Sunday, December 15, 2019
What is this place? The flute sends its touch from a retro wave. Questions delay a process – the sounds are creating the space.
At the top of still waters can we unite? Ponder there as warm air travels atop argon. The hurt was yesteryear, the suffering is still, but a guardian eagle soars above in peace.
So calm – as the other four moods await their turn. Care to explain such a state?
A walk through water. Swimming in the fire. Climbing the gases of ether. Take a bow for you did not explain – rather the hills of this land express you.
Fear was the propeller. Right eyes, right time. Because we are enough. We are just. Beauty.
It becomes relative down there. Here – it is everywhere forever. Pain is obliviated. Don’t talk about it, we might go back. When the lad asks for help revisit in context. They need to know where you truly were.
Not enough believe. Enough will always. It doesn’t go anywhere. You do.