Monday, June 18, 2012

Last Night in the Boro

I am in the smoky mountains. I have never been in the smoky mountains, but I am here tonight. Smoke-filled mountains. They are lovely.

Sea fishes swim through the most turbulent ice waters and shiver in their scales at the quiver of so many water molecules.

I am alive in the truest sense. Truth is the perception of reality among each culture, each country, each city, and every person. In all, I am alive.

I think of the dust on the moon and wonder how he and I can both have dust.

Frostbitten pebbles in rivers of light produce darkness in the middle and surface gold to the knight.

I crumble and fall in glory.

Do you hear the sounds of color and visible electrodes in my body?

Repetition of phrases and words cannot lengthen my vocabulary or imagination.

If I shut my eyes I see hexagon shapes of grey moving in gentle formation above my dark horizon.

In the middle of the woods my skills and senses are heightened to a degree beyond human comprehension.

The stars birth us.

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