Floating, it happens when you've forgotten how the shore looks like and you're too tired to remember you're in need of rest. Bobbing about, up and down, buoyancy like in the old days when up was up and down was down, like a little baby's toy, teeter-tottering about on one's way towards being. Swaying uncontrollably between order and chaos.
Well, this morning I can truly say I have found balance and meaning in the magic circumstance that unveils our beings to the subconscious conundrums from which the fabric of reality is spun.
Laugh all you will, or giggle if you shall for I shall just smile and look deep into your eyes where you always find one of two things - open doors or hidden ciphers...
Be it as it may, this tarotic alchemy, this chaotic order is for me the purest form of humor, jest and ironically divine intervention.
Excuse my stupidity, doused sensibly with an air of naivete, ruffled by nausea and ageing spleen, circumvented by experience, exposed by conjecture, unraveled by phantasmagorical supposition and contained by my, my very own - feeble morphology of syntax. And incredible lightness of being.
In all this I only see the natural of what is, as supposed, or opposed to what should be, what begins to be but never is, what one wants, and definetly what one is in need of.
So you toss, or you turn or you move, you walk about and you look, you smile and you nod leaving it all behind, not looking back, not looking back in anger but in unmovable understanding, in always unfathomable love. Floating through life itself, flambouyantly bobbing throughout the whole liquid mess of feelings, opinions and half-assed philosophies.
We always are what we do, all judgement aside, cowards or heroes, thieves or beggars, saints and demons, all human, all bound by the inescapable rules of ruthless attraction. Captive in this beautiful mess of an ocean we call life.
Compassless and adrift, this is our shining epitaph that will be forever ingrained in the forgetfulness of those who will never, ever, not even at the very end, remember us with anything but the deepest form of affection - regret.
This message in a bottle goes out to all those sleepless nights, all those unfathomable thoughts, to all those unspoken but felt and never uttered words which always drag the sunshine rays and the glittering but unmoveable moon into the darkness thereby turning it into light.
This is a hypnotic and phantasmagorical mood, my very own Dream Time, when words cease to exist and sounds start vibrating all over your insides creating visions of IS-ness.
Floating is IS-ness and I know this because even now when I blink I feel I will see faces and eyes as close my own, like a kaleidoscope of pure Vision.
Worry not, I am just resting, stretching about, rising and falling with the waves, too far from shore to be caught by the tide, riding the currents, beginning to understand, remembering to forget, living, breathing, smiling, loving, caring, protecting, assuming, procrastinating, joking, mocking, kissing, jinksing, wishing, feeling, losing, winning, working, writing but first and foremost accepting.
Peace out, Serendipity! You are the stuff that reality is made of, we are just the dreams that stuff turns into! Sleep well, take care, love well, feel like you're supposed to 'cause I'm churning water again and my far seeing eyes can only see the continent on the horizon, an infinty away, but I'm headed for infinity!
