Space time enclosure
Resting upon a gravitational setting
Moved by quivering energy
Octaves of different tones in harmony
Making infinite motion, an endless song

In a Noisy Head
Space time enclosure
Resting upon a gravitational setting
Moved by quivering energy
Octaves of different tones in harmony
Making infinite motion, an endless song
Monsoon season at the zenith of recollections
Hiccuped hook-up hitched up forward traction
Stirruped foreword into future acquisitions
No sacrifice until assurance of satisfaction
Finally reached steady state
Riddled, addled, in battle.
Rattled by relentless reaches.
Departing definitively for health and wealth and love.
A self-proclaimed rising above.
Encompassing energy sourced and stemming
Dotted lines connecting time-space in force
Together tied to waves of undulating motion
Not passive, not possessive; progressive
A gentle place of faith, an endless frame of face
There is no such thing as the void. Nothingness does not exist.
There is only energy, endlessly repeating, transmuting from one form to another, breathing.
There is no abyss within yourself, no dark pit, no empty erosion.
There is only pure consciousness, endless fractals of thought and emotion.
Avoiding the murk
Double stepping to shirk
Praying for a perk
Putting in the work
Keeping in a shared vibration, through the oscillating waves of time
Seeking it through coarse invasions, following through to the different signs
Magnetized and pulled together, phasing back for the reunion
Subtle exchange of energy and information, a continuous communion
Reeling in the moments, accumulating seconds of time.
Reliving the truth, cutting through lines.
Carrying curated memories, like dew drops beading on signs.
Deep set intentions, sowing the shine.
In the face of inheritance, a promise of mine.
Testing an instance, awaiting validation
Hardly believe the reformation
Finally made it to the indication, a sublimation
Anxiously attending confirmation
Biting at the bit, biding my time.
Feeling for the fit, something so fine.
Cashing in the script, speaking my line.
Meet me in the slip, waiting by sign.
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