the stars, the stars, stars, stars.. are awake tsangpo river gorges wind like teasing spirals eroded from my regenerative nucleous the stars, stars, stars, stars... are awake tapping at the delta-bands so they may emit their lethal text finding minute finger-holds on the edge of galaxies as i climb gossamer tendrils delicate shifting of densities ...(if) sets in the west... the stars, stars, stars, stars are awake returning to chapped hands a crusty crab and horsehead nebula near my tear ducts flicked away into the breeze as i see strangers, friends, and kin, all latent acorns from Great Oak embracing greetings embalming the acorn with rich peat and moisture ...it always rises again in the east waking from pine-needle beds to journey on my knees on river bank alone crying joys join the streamflow hurt to heal running my hands deep into the silty loam forearms covered petting roots from emergent species of trees the futuristic, ancient pre-cursors of alien symbology dendritic recursive fractal growths as mother river, and sister lightning, when they made lysergic choices but this much more stimulated from the pineal gland remanents of nectar linguistics of transcendental signification absolute meaning universal referentiality alas will till these fields with love 'till I shed myself into the stars.. ..are awake
wow. i mean wow. It's actually kinda spooky because i'm listening to some major prog-rock music and that's what that song reminds me of, some major prog-rock jamming. Your song is outta-site, my man.
The stars are awake, indeed, and you are that. We are all much brighter than we allow ourselves to see, lest we speak of afterglow across the light-years.
