Thought Tendrils

As I lay here,

with thoughts like tendrils

caressing and restricting

my current state of being,

I am brought out through my vision

the connection like a movie reel

passing by with flickers

of all shades of green.

With grass blades waving

to the russling leaves above,

who pronounce their proudness

after drinking the best of

what is left

of the fading sunlight.

Calm or stubborn are they,

plantings of today?

What it must be like

to be the wind,

which touches everything

and never sees?

The universal dove,

until it chooses to fight

for balance

amongst the living

that dare to think too much…

Tonight I must be nimble

without wares

Or else I’ll stand in fright

Knowing that my shivering

might be arrested

by tomorrow’s sensations

that I might not be able to have

Unless we allow ourselves

to be open

to something different altogether.

Clever, right?

Everything I just said doesn’t really mean anything.

But has anything else ever meant anything, anyway?

Maybe describing the water in your glass for 15 paragraphs turns out to be more useful than anything else you did in your life once your life movie is played for you.

Your guess is as good as mine.

I luv ducks.

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Bonky Wonky

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On Revolution, Part 2