reverting: from the silence and calmness as hindu cows kind of shit. the feeling we all have to notice when the lonesome wolf gathers it's prey for the night alone. the screech of silent shedding of some bark made by the monsters within the depths of our universe within the souls of our shoes. it's deep inside of us. and we want to escape to feel free from desperation.
and i understand ever little mad world the universe has to offer. the altered being of being altered and changed to be consistent.
we call it growing up
i call it the weather.
why can't we be earthly,
why can't we strive beyond perspective.
why can't we see what we don't believe.
don't you get it; its just some airy land.?
nonexistent.
we will always live in a world of perpetual desire that someday we will live to like movie stars and rockqueens that will finish it's end scene with some comedy relief or a sequel that will go straight to dvd.
the love containment idea you convey.
the force within.
holding the glass jar up.
the molding of this tower.
without each side.
without each reliable cause.
there is no cause.
and the fall resorts to a heavy one at that.
starting from the middle of your hemisphere.
a distinct, indivisible entity; a single thing, being, instance, or item.
the epitome to all mad in the world. the left to the right. the incorrect from the desire to be alone. a singular matter. existent from the first sign of light.
we end up owning our emotions.
before the emotions end up owning us.
the art of growing up.
the art of slowing down God's second hand.
did you know that in a high enough altitude you may age slower due to the lack of gravity made by your closeness to it's distance..
it's the art of altering the moment we find our selves.
lost.
.
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