Hands Like Clouds - Mountain King
Space and the places in between, we look and listen over lifetimes to see and hear the brief moments of flickered reality. Was it real? Maybe a light refraction, shadow, or sub conscious sonic manifestation. Am I experiencing the fringes of thought burn and contract or is dimensional awareness beginning to narrow into one comprehensible spectrum? Looking down from an angular earth made precipice, the deep below faintly chimes like a dying flavor from overcooked stew. There is a vivid alternate reality branding chosen lines, a place so real yet dancing beyond physical acquisition. Like the air or water, once removed from gravity's planting, unseen currents move us as molecules. Everything forward is the new three hundred and fifty nine degrees as the top and bottom have blinking greens arrows pointing in opposite directions. But there always is the trudge through something think and mysterious. The currents beckon with whimsical allure, while actual transition grins with discard of
