Contrast Forest for Understanding Flow

Begin at the beginning. This is where I must search for the understanding of what it is that makes me want to end this suffering of monotony and allow the influences of the beauty to consume my whole being. I cannot seem to capture the essence of what it means to become one with the universe soon enough. If I am able to glimpse at the sun I cannot help but squint. I am searching for the place in the universe that does not care for the elements that shackle my true self. The search for that which can only be traded and negotiable seems to be the only value here on earth. When I know very well that this is far from what is my net worth.

I glance into the realm that is after this. That was before this also. In that which lies the beauty and awe of nothing resembling a reflection but something that is an introspection. That I could be so naive to feel defeated when the perception of other people’s reality should have anything to do with what I come to find is my own. That once the individiuals who label me have walked away and I am left alone at the edge of the forest to wander through the darkness I once again am still.

I look to the sky from the dense woods to catch sight of a passing bird and smell the jasmine that grows on the branches of the trees that suffocate my will to remain standing. Knowing that there will be a day and a week and a year that this aging body will no longer be strong enough to fight. I will then be at the mercy of the woods and one day become a composing mass in the brush.

Know that I don’t understand why this matters to anyone but myself. I am tormented by the search of that which is a constant sonnet playing at only slightly audible levels. I can hear the whispers and I think myself mad. They are a constant reminder of the after and the before keeping vigil over my flesh and bones.

Why me? Am I mad?

Why do I have this unquenchable thirst to communicate this vibration for the masses to hear and yet cannot seems to find those individuals who will support me in my search for understanding the mission to metaphysics and manifestions?

I find that if I just roll out of bed and grab a pen or a keyboard I can find easy access to the infinite. Yet the day awakens that spirit fades. I am so at peace with a resting state and my heart rate remains below average. Maybe without even know it I am in a state of Nirvana or Bliss that monks try for years to enter. That with no meditation or preparation I am able to calm and still the mind so that I can feel for just a brief time.

It won’t be long now before the energy of those around me begin to stir. Thier quanta will begin to affect me in this lazy chair and I will pull my hands from the keys to take a sip and I will be reminded of the duties and obligations to my physical self that the spiritual realm will once again close its doors until another day.

I have noticed that if I wake up before 5 a.m. I can be alone without the influence of the worlds expectations and encouragements. I can remain in the solitude of respite and recovery from the transition into sleep and the departure of the after.

There are times when I am able to trigger a lucid dream and in that dream I am able to sing and fly. Just as fast as I feel the infinite powers of the mind and the amazing gift that awaits me in the after, I am disturbed from my slumber. Only to find that in this realm I cannot fly. But I can Sing.

I am a gifted soul kissed by an angel and my gift is that I am not only possessed by the desire to write but that I have the ability to translate the angels message. As I get older I am able to understand what it is that I am here on earth for. I am here to create words of intense curiosity and incite the wisdom of the ancients in a language that settles between poetic madness and a users manual to living a more valuale existence.

Although I may never receive the rewards associated with a talent like this I still feel as if I am getting paid. Pounding the keys in a frantic manner is nothing short of a mental orgasm. My juices spit and splatter with every keystroke and my digital DNA is absorbed into that which can only be described as a portal to the eyes of the universe at the tap of a command to publish.

I am making a pilgrimage to understand the difference between the business man in the suit and the artist in robes. I cannot help but feel as if the more I grow an audience to hear my accomplishments I am not happy not speaking of what can be accomplished. That I must be so torn between such dynamic contrasts as the trees to the sky as to call into existence what can only be categorized as schizophrenia.

Just live.

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