Life by its nature is hypnotic, the passing of each day, to a planet what must seem only a fleeting moment in time, the sun and moon, go between one another, between poetry ensues, in the details of each day, I rose, missed the sunset and went out to our tree. It was beautiful, everything was beautiful, and now I am here, and is it not the same? There is a new thing rising in me, all around this story we hear, could it be its for something entirely different than we thought, different and wonderful? Or perhaps its that it is for no reason at all, that it is wonderful, and that without reason, we begin to see clearly, as the heart of all conscious begins to rock with the world, in the cosmic flow of Awadwan, it begins to make sense, it was not just by chance that it appeared, every thorn branch and leave, every bend twist, and color told a story in a language to urgent for sound, beyond time, telling itself and yet holding back.. a chance at freedom, there it is, lodged there. Everything has changed. And across the bend each day, roaming with another thing to says sometimes the pine does find my mind, or some ness to grind, the trees were stoned, in rocking love two friends in hand, do come, were fore you saw in the Pomo's name it was the o's that led me here, sailing, suddenly made clear why did you stop ever, we all run together we've been smoothed from settling, pebbles in the creek
Pretty good. I would put it on the poetry thread and add some line feeds for readability. Some of the references (Awadwan, Pomo) are obscure.
excellent, I feel a lot of what you are saying very strongly... especially the part about the color language "too urgent for sound" LOVE that part IMMENSELY... I know exactly what you mean tehe... anyhow I am going in circles now, point is I adore it... everyone is so great and talented hehe !!!!! very excited to hear more from you
