wisefool

I love every piece of this. I try to rotate it upon different narrating perspectives and it works in multiple ways.

Gambling on antiquated languages; things so large they become occult; a hum in the universe so strong and steady that it both crumbles everything into dust and animates the tiny particles into an endless dance of vibratory divinity;

something plain and sacred, sacred and plain.

"It is there, plainly, as any fruit."

This is powerful to me. I feel exposed and weak. Looking into a mirror that defines my wound with sharpness and clarity, causing me to feel.

Thanks man.

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Say hello to my frontal lobe.