This is a very liminal way to experience the world. The dust clears from the day. What was all-encompassing only moments ago fades like it was all an illusion. Was any of that even real? Everyone is dissolving into the sun. The time is now past. We should keep this wheel turning, eternally.
You are a devotee of the creeping vine. The sun is burning everything up so that no one can hide anymore. And I admit, I don’t want to hide anymore. I watch the hawks circle overheard. I feel something alive in the wings. I know the truth is perched somewhere, watching. And it makes me very aware of roots that go very, very deep.
Life is as I like it best. Dappled and dissolved and disintegrated. There is nothing to fear because nothing exists. The sun burns above. Below the water immerses the voices. When I am underwater and submerged I think I can surface and create anything I want. The swallowtails don’t know the difference.
I am constructing a very elaborate confession. The sun beats down (Did I already say that?). I lose track of the hour, I lose track of my self. I can’t focus. The moment dissolves, like everything else these days. It turns to liquid gold. I can think only of sand dunes. It is a burden to be under the same sky. To know you exist like a fire I can’t put out.
The fields are endless. The fields are endless. In leaps and bounds the world is golden. Life cannot be shaken. The birds are singing. The sun is rising. The world turns. I am in light. I give in to the light. I think everything will be ok. The world is nothing if not bathed in gold, whether it be the gold of the fields or the gold of the desert.
No one seems to have the time anymore. I think the time is irrelevant. The scarab is invested in the eternal. There is no reason to get caught up in the sound of the cage, in the cages people put themselves in voluntarily. Look at how the exhibitionist sings.
I cannot wait until all I have to think about is how to carve the hour into something sublime.
Summer hangs lanterns which glow in my mind, turning my fear into a garden party. Amidst this, I’ve become aware of a red rose. Consciousness in bloom. The rose expands as I take in more of the sky, the clouds, the heavens, the stars, the moon, the sun. The falling stars spark a spiritual fire at sunset. I will capture this love momentarily, I will place it in the palm of your burning heart.