Photo taken at Kanakari Beach—Thira, Santorini, Greece (2022)

Monday, May 20, 2024

Another part of me would walk the two-mile journey to see the shores of my imagination. To lather in the silk winds of a vision so loopy and a tyrant mind who can only feel the fabrics of a sweater woven so desperately. This moment, however, I’d stare—facing the fate of a rogue hopeful.

The latter part of me would walk the grainy volcanic beach where the ancients of our time would bask. But lounging with a wind so cutting and a sky this conniving, how else shall the eruptions of time be of a mere fork in the road?

I dreamt of a place but was so far from it. I dreamt of fulfilling my empty vessel, projecting futuristic hopes while blinded by momentary satisfaction.

…of the fortunate few who stand upon the soils of mindful aims, we forget that we are the projector.

Empty is, as empty was.

– Budd

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