Moons and smog

Treasures derived from mirages… they’re here, and in a blink of an eye they’re already somewhere else. Demented quest turning into an incident… damn, I care for incidents:) Hellish accessory always up to no good, and this daydreamer stands thrilled, never knowing when the reverie comes to an end… and somewhere beyond all things, her smile – my reason to lose decimals! Damn, I thought I was mathematical prodigy…

The eternal struggle of each new generation lies everywhere else, destinies colliding into one another, creating it all.

I howl at the moon, I can’t see her from all this smog… but I know she’s there.

Hectic

 I walk barefoot, trying to get anywhere, elsewhere. Upset by unknown forces, this strange murmur in my gene pool becomes my only guide. Subtle gentle whispers reaching surface, cues of somebody else’s memories, inherited fruits of ancient knowledge, engraved faith, reminders to be human above all else. Senses sharpen, warmth reaches peaks and Arcadian feelings come to rise, they become thick, gain substance and achieve form; imposing themselves and claim dominion in this hectic excerpt of life. So agitation is subversively transformed into excitement, when the soul wants only what’s good for her.

And this soul knows only too well...  elsewhere is where I am – an asset worth any treasure. So, I bite a lip…

My usual self;)

Pale colorless notes echoing in the distance from the inside, subtle omens interpreting some treasures of my excommunicated faith… faith residing within, drumming a waking beat from the borders of my flesh on the outside down to the only core of things that is me. Energetically engulfing my usual self, encircling me from all sides, surrounding me, pushing, beckoning!

That bottomless well of my absolute self is built from alchemy as my key of understanding nature, and the occult as a pathway of grasping all possibilities of the soul. In there I come to realize that life blooms outside of any circumstances which create balance. There I subjectively exist, willingly accepting change as an only guiding force against the dissipative occurrence of rust and the inertial causality of senile dementia. In that region I thrive…

Imagination, being my existing drug of choice, unfolds new principles of existence by challenging my reason, deafening me!

… a naked deconstruction of this narrative me;)