hoopyfrood
Bluelighter
The Way is what he wills.
Following his deepest desires,
he chases that which escapes him,
like the running pursuit of a woman
within the delirium of a drunk dream.
The Way is what wills us.
Flowing through the darkest depths,
it ebbs and flows, teeming with brilliance:
A cosmos within, a cosmos without.
The Way begs the question.
We try to talk about It;
the singular Enigma, that is.
We track Its vast continuity,
describe It with abstraction,
yet It remains in ambiguity.
You see,
Causality courses through you,
like a maple leaf
suspended upright in a calm creek,
descending ever so quietly onto the stream bed,
never to find the bank again.
One in the same,
We as the subject chase the dream.
The Way is opaque,
and though we appreciate the sound,
We ask what it means.
A Bluelighter tries
to push his envelope, to watch it bend,
to vomit, shit and come freely,
without need
to do it again.
To us all,
Death will come sudden.
The Way seems to come to an end.
Death will come once,
to put to rest a good friend.
A cosmos within,
Living the dream,
a cosmos without,
without need
to do it again.
- A wandering creature
Following his deepest desires,
he chases that which escapes him,
like the running pursuit of a woman
within the delirium of a drunk dream.
The Way is what wills us.
Flowing through the darkest depths,
it ebbs and flows, teeming with brilliance:
A cosmos within, a cosmos without.
The Way begs the question.
We try to talk about It;
the singular Enigma, that is.
We track Its vast continuity,
describe It with abstraction,
yet It remains in ambiguity.
You see,
Causality courses through you,
like a maple leaf
suspended upright in a calm creek,
descending ever so quietly onto the stream bed,
never to find the bank again.
One in the same,
We as the subject chase the dream.
The Way is opaque,
and though we appreciate the sound,
We ask what it means.
A Bluelighter tries
to push his envelope, to watch it bend,
to vomit, shit and come freely,
without need
to do it again.
To us all,
Death will come sudden.
The Way seems to come to an end.
Death will come once,
to put to rest a good friend.
A cosmos within,
Living the dream,
a cosmos without,
without need
to do it again.
- A wandering creature
