wisefool

In this universal womb,

I sense the piped-in
pulsations
of some seemingly
absent
mother.

I must exist in an air-filled dimension
that intimately interfaces with some fluid dimension.

With some unimaginably remote
and unfathomably macrocosmic
lifesource
that is
endlessly and inherently
beating the inter-dimensional membrane
like some liquidized thunderdrum. . .

hugely energetic membranous oscillations
creating friction between the molecules
of my gaseous space;
friction generating static

static sparking lightning that travels down to me. . . .

standing my hairs on end,
making me wonder
what
is the source of this sensation.

__________________
Say hello to my frontal lobe.