“Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there some day.”
- Winnie The Pooh
Ask me anything
a lone girl, sitting at ease by a golden meadow of elixir. knowing the richness of being alone. swimming in her own bliss of contentment while the birds sing from tree tops and warm silky wind caresses her form. Daydreams, so full of daydreams. a LIfe to live only for daydreams. She is able to feel the gods peering down on her with sweet tasting love. Oh, in a daydream it manifests. Nothing ever needs to be said for it is all already known
Our fragility as a human race, once in the beginning bold and strong.
Through time we toy with thoughts of how it could be possible to break ourselves,
planted with a seedling of doubt.
Everyone drawn to it like a magnet, subconciously or not,
one large drama with which we are so in love and dance around in
we were first born solid only to slowly disentegrate ourselves into a messy pulp; only to burst out once more, born anew
We fear anything greater than what we percieve as ourselves!
We will conciously be able to experience the pureness of our conciousness soon enough