Tethered
Hoping one day suppositions sustained through incredulous thought will show themselves, in true transfiguration, their naturally illogical way of making sense. Mind wanders into thought patterns deep and complex, held with the classical hemp rope to the world we will return. Searching and observing, moving peacefully and allowing change, I wander to hear the truth bell toll. As it ripples throughout the pattern, just barely reaching the surface, if not at all. With detail through the bush of the jungle I attempt to echolocate that faint chime of purity. Closer and Closer I pry with an endurance I will make unmatched by most. Each time the bell rings louder, I hear the flowers sing and feel the tree rings out my window. Unfooled by imbalance and discord I peer through the muck and the mile, knowing when the truth bell has graced our presence, even if only for a sliver of tone. Find it. Great lengths given to you by the Truth serve as guideposts along the trail for others to follow. Only with your lead can we complete our journey, lest we spend eternity in the slow, grinding spiral of the jungle. The trials of self, the temptations of riches written in gold down the cavernous cave where no sound may penetrate. Moving forward the complexity of the pattern deepens further still revealing more of the unknown. I will hold my breath, feeling the Truth ripple the very cacophony of thickly laid harmonious pattern. Closer I wander, wanting to stand in the space I crawl. The weight of my endeavor squeezes the last gasp of air from my clenched lips. I breathe and I look out on my world taking solace in my travels. Spending time in reverence of the difficulty. I hope that when and if I am able to reach the source of this vibration I will trust myself to know that I am there.
Progression
Pulling progression aggressively. Trapping unending time and forces traced back to the bang. Pulsing conducive of eons empty in endless thought. STOP it you may say, allow altruism to thrive, uncheck the drive, and may peace pull us out of progression--an obtusely angled skew of perception, adjacent to all lies and deceit. Possessively plundering in dispersion towards defeat. Please progress pull lightly for a people’s plight is change. As desirable as day it is but blunt knives don’t sharpen quickly. Bless our souls.
Hoping one day suppositions sustained through incredulous thought will show themselves, in true transfiguration, their naturally illogical way of making sense. Mind wanders into thought patterns deep and complex, held with the classical hemp rope to the world we will return. Searching and observing, moving peacefully and allowing change, I wander to hear the truth bell toll. As it ripples throughout the pattern, just barely reaching the surface, if not at all. With detail through the bush of the jungle I attempt to echolocate that faint chime of purity. Closer and Closer I pry with an endurance I will make unmatched by most. Each time the bell rings louder, I hear the flowers sing and feel the tree rings out my window. Unfooled by imbalance and discord I peer through the muck and the mile, knowing when the truth bell has graced our presence, even if only for a sliver of tone. Find it. Great lengths given to you by the Truth serve as guideposts along the trail for others to follow. Only with your lead can we complete our journey, lest we spend eternity in the slow, grinding spiral of the jungle. The trials of self, the temptations of riches written in gold down the cavernous cave where no sound may penetrate. Moving forward the complexity of the pattern deepens further still revealing more of the unknown. I will hold my breath, feeling the Truth ripple the very cacophony of thickly laid harmonious pattern. Closer I wander, wanting to stand in the space I crawl. The weight of my endeavor squeezes the last gasp of air from my clenched lips. I breathe and I look out on my world taking solace in my travels. Spending time in reverence of the difficulty. I hope that when and if I am able to reach the source of this vibration I will trust myself to know that I am there.
Progression
Pulling progression aggressively. Trapping unending time and forces traced back to the bang. Pulsing conducive of eons empty in endless thought. STOP it you may say, allow altruism to thrive, uncheck the drive, and may peace pull us out of progression--an obtusely angled skew of perception, adjacent to all lies and deceit. Possessively plundering in dispersion towards defeat. Please progress pull lightly for a people’s plight is change. As desirable as day it is but blunt knives don’t sharpen quickly. Bless our souls.
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