the text of the everyday becomes like a poem that weaves itself through our minds and our skin, it envelopes being with its sounds and sights calling us forward to partake in life with abandon to those things we are told to do and be. the nature of our souls stretches forth to grasp at infinity as something incomprehensible and unknown, yet something that shows itself at every moment in a way that invites curiosity and longing. should we mind if it becomes nonsense, jumbled up and collapsing into utter abandon, with only the sheer need to feel pulling us - it forward, with no choice either way?
No comments:
Post a Comment