An avalanche of nothingness.
Awkward silence. The highlights are already over. The fatigue of non-movement.
Crystal clarity, sharp, concise – has become the coward.
Uneasiness echoes intermittently, an attempt at an inside-out switch.
Maybe this is Kathy’s song, or Eric’s or Esther’s.
Has the soul-merge begun?
Can there be ecstasy in uneasiness? Disengaged. Cluttered.
The year of the un-welcomed shadows. Fragmented.
Trying to trap old memories in the non-functional corral.
From Genesis to Revelation and out the other side.
All the means of articulation-
buried.
The Infinite 
“The body of writing takes a thousand different forms, and there is no one right way to measure.
Changing, changing at the flick of a hand, it’s various forms are difficult to capture.
Words and phrases compete with one another, but the mind is still master.
Caught between the unborn and the living, the writer struggles to maintain both depth and surface.
He may depart from the square, he may overstep the circle, searching for the one true form of his reality.
He would fill the eyes of his readers with splendor; he would sharpen the mind’s values.
The one whose language is muddled cannot do it; only when mind is clear can language be noble.” LU CHI
(Wondering…could this quote shed a light on the ‘why’ you write your thoughts out loud?)
♥♥♥
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