Create a constant ink flow as though there's no tomorrow and I've got to tell the world everything that's inside of me in the perfect words so the most people will understand.
I have to find the common denominator to pull us all together in equanimity, where my magic eclipses the lines that separate us from ourselves and one another.
How best to relay the simple message scrawled inside my bone marrow
to all these frozen senses obscured by outdated parodies of approximations and amalgamations containing more and more contamination...?
A fleeting metaphor inevitably becomes more opaque the further in I travel...
There is no universal language so I end up creating my own; twisting old words into new forms to suit my singular syntax as best they are able.
I can't always tell if it's working but I have to keep trying because somewhere out there is a lost soul searching for a reason to keep breathing and I'm compelled to provide the mirror by which they are reminded of their own divinity.
I want to remind us that we granted ourselves freedom when we created these bodies and we are here to feel something beautiful.
Our abstracted presence is the result of a lofty vision created far beyond the monkey-mind prison and it's about time we started living with precision.

Time Time Time
Tricky time line is a fine wine aged to perfection
and settling into sediment are thoughts of a muddled vision
sentenced to indecision,
but the derision is divisible by you plus me minus all the other dimensions
and I think it's time for a resurrection of slow days that drift with rivers and tide pools in sun and moon time, harvest and loon time.

Give me time in gravity and moon beams,
seasons and cycles,
and the flowering of a hundred-year cactus.
Give me evolutionary time,
tectonic time,
symphonic time...