Going Beyond Resonance To Reveal Your True Colours

If everything is in everything then how do we extract it from itself?

By making it jump out of its skin through strengthening its core frequencies. By making its heart resonate, to then activate. By going beyond the loved-up glow of resonance until the structure that contains you, cannot.

And then the opera singer's voice makes the wine glass shatter.

By turning up the volume several orders higher than the level at which you were being peacefully contained within the scene of apparent calm - to reveal your true colours. 

By energizing to the point where you burst through the boundaries and borders defining where you were supposed to reside and remain, but now are staking your claim on the present in a bid to secure our future.

What She Needed To Hear

I understand what you're saying. And thanks for saying it too. I appreciate frankness when it's needed. All I'm saying is that you don't have to apologise to me for having lost your flow temporarily. It's not your fault and you shouldn't feel obliged to always be able to respond as you'd like. I won't be hurt if you don't reply when I send you stuff.

I guarantee you, your flow will return after the right amount of time has past. It is literally inconceivable for you to remain feeling how you are now, forever.  No one has ever endured such a static fate. So it's a matter of time, a matter of things that must be worked through slowly. Unhurried. Unrushed. X

Fleeting Rage In A Taxi For A Young Couple That Would Patio The Amazon Rainforest If It Were Theirs

A young couple have moved into a lovely house on the posh part of the Wirral. It was previously owned by an elderly woman who'd been there for ages and had cultivated a diversely rich and ornate front garden. I'm in a taxi just on the way to work and could see the young man folding his arms stood next to builders, overseeing the removal of the lovingly sculptered artwork nature had produced, having being erased from memory and now being replaced with the shortest period driveway I've ever seen. My gut response was to stop my taxi and kick the man up his arse. Give him a free short haul flight. 

Mystery

I read a couple lines of what you just sent while getting my feet massaged sipping coffee, and opened my account immediately assuming your block of text was about me again.

 It is about me if I feel it is about me anyway, at least to a certain extent it is. But that's not really the point in these kinds of matters. The moment after my ego inspired morning pondering, I concluded that it is much better to be in the business of imbibing mysteries, each one more obscure or esoteric or magical than its predecessor, than to be an acclaimed fisher of mysteries, one of global renown, whose sense of pride and self-worth is replenished by the seas and showers of rapturous  acclaim and amazement caused by the paucity of intrigue left behind as tools of surgical semantics perform autopsies yielding answers that are sterile - that can bear no questions of their own. 

I'd rather be in the game of making audiences gasp in petrified awe by swallowing poisons unknown like soft drinks, than sustain my physical existence taxonomising magic. Continuing to remain always a starter, and never a finisher. Never a source of conclusions without at least one road branching off ahead. Never the final word. Never the authority  which imbibes its own deceit. Which is a poison it hopes will cause its pores to sweat mystique, but only lead to the corroding of the heart's spirit.

Right, I wasn't supposed to write this much! I'll go for a walk to inhale some nice forest air now and read the rest of what your wrote there.

The Light of Dawn and Dusk

It's telling that the best times to manipulate life's light is during brief cyclical periods where hues undergo their metamorphosis between plateaus of stability. Uncertainty over what the energy is and how it ought to project. Dawn and dusk. You can see the full range of life during these small pockets each day and they're very emotional to handle and play with. Everything the light touches at these times is transformed so that dog turds on tow paths turn golden and prove they can be polished.