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Baron samadhi.

a twisted wreckage of dynamic elements, light flickering in-between the spokes of the wheels as they still stir the dramatic basin from which we are forged originally, but we must keep a close watch on this heart of ours to make certain it does not stray too far from what we want the truth to be… even if it creates creative mistakes by insulting the rest of the usual process of working that most individuated living mentalities are prepared for through ritual indoctrination of themselves channeling means that make many of us uncertain of our futures, and that scares those people away from habit-forming ministrations that ease the life burden by seizing a role in the vast commercial wilderness that existence now entails as well as the ideals of calm and relaxation that seem less and less obtainable as we make the beds to lie in, sinister tiresome weight that makes us all nervous and self-consciously aware before we fall to sleep in this dreamy anti-wake state… where the words contort into the springboard from which all this anti-matter spits is the wealth of a collective area of consciousness residing above where the heart sits, the visceral mind wishes to know the means to the end by moving as may pieces of the clueless fauna left wandering around with their plans, but at any time the summons can be made and the voices of gods will be loud and pleading for a new kind of change in the world… one that perhaps takes us back into the distance of the past from a very real point of vantage that will remain undisturbed in light of humanity’s dramatic twists and turns, a motionless movement that rises and falls with the ebbing and flow of the tides and weather as the static creates a wall of sound to subdue the harsh thoughts that beleaguer us on all sides, and an intriguing narrative that leads us out of the woods where we do not see forests only the leaves in the trees… a stunning vampire of language suckling the marrow from broken bits of linguistic effluvium left by dead tribes long since faded away from our view of them, but the razor-sharp protean wit encapsulated without written forms passed out in oral little tips of history from tribe to tribe, difficult viewpoint to contemplate from Here while inside of another mind… the humanitards learn to adapt one by one to each other because immediacy equals relevancy in the network of social interaction, learning in a shoddy fashion that makes the rest of the monkeys in the madhouse seem sane by comparison, and pushing the boundaries of values and acceptance Here… that mind grown up in wretched disgrace without guidance or careful loving strains, disappointed and displaced by human careless waste born and left to die within a system that ignores its role as caretaker, but gives us endless amounts of grief for being ourselves amidst the stockade of emotions that is the case for this argument… if content, we seldom let the offset balance take the reigns of control from us as we indulge in pleasant memories and actions, and what about them who defy this creed?… the others who constantly try to justify the meaning to their words are helpless to correct the real meaning of their suffering, like a code breaker without some kind of a cypher to crack the DNA of knowledge that is utilized to advance this human calumny born from dirt into the stratosphere where beings of a far greater nature than ours becomes enlightened, but just like that the energy gets changed into another form to express the balance of truth in the spirit of the unyielding of which we are all a piece in the perpetual motion… something wicked this way is already Here…

Thanks, khet.