wisefool

A mental focus on the slightest of sensations, maximizing fluidity and exactness. A soft absorption, a natural adherence, lifting delicate layers of thought, not to disturb moments to come nor the moments past. Living fully on every breath, finding revelations in every glimpse, deforming pre-constructed beliefs, exposing the falsifications of motivations and convictions. Slapping away the trend towards external expectations and embracing inner vibratory flow, releasing into the current of my own life force. Giving up, handing over the hand-me-down boundaries of my surrounding externalities. Eroding the encasement that currently guides my energetic flow, forming weaknesses in perceived strengths, breaking free from this innate mould. Doing the dance of vitality, de-petrifying my stiffened outer shell, a splintering self-subjection, a burning of my own bark, forming angels in my own ashes. A extension of self induced by a lack of self-satisfaction, a mental remorse. Introducing my own persona to myself.

An eternal parabolic movement of consciousness, lapsing into frequent intervals of lucid entrancement, briefly extending the blink of an eye into years, decades, and millennia, heavily focusing on the dramatic inner minutia of every day life. A point traveling on a circularly self-edifying line, feeling the perceived friction of movement through an imagined space and subsequent time, judging both the periods of high-resistance and the moments that flow with ease. Speeding around the ovulatory corners, shedding fruitless layers, and birthing moments of profundity. Seeing no end and knowing none either. Trailing convictions of eternality, leaving chemtrails of uncertainty. Cyclic interpretations and metaphors creating meaning, diminishing purpose, findings reasons, and then starting all over again. Rhythmic motions churning conceptual milk, creating the butter of thought. Floating from a release, hearing a choir of an ultimate telling, feeling the faintest of winds frisking my skin, a slight awakening and the slipping away of my butterfinger dreams.

Slippery thoughts tighten knots.

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Say hello to my frontal lobe.