Never Ending Search For Something More.

The lost ones tend to findings in what they are, like shattered glass on floor, attempting to glue back the pieces to feel integrated again. If you instead sweep the glass from the floor and put it all in a trash-bin you are approaching the problem from the other way around, by pulling the roots from the very bottom you eliminate the never ending search for meaning. Maybe something more interesting will happen. Maybe nothing will happen.

Yet You Are Here, Yet You Are Not.

you are here, but you have left, yet you are here, yet you are gone, yet i can see you, yet you have dimnished before my eyes, yet i can hear you, yet your voice seem now distant and afar, yet i can smell you, yet it is just my memory of yours smell.

Nothing Is What I Know, That's What I Know.

the wind is bonkers today

wind emergency 411

they are probably busied with their donuts, rather than knee-deep in telephone inquiries

it's windy inside my body, like a whirlpool whipping up to something more ferocious

my last two years has been a poster of edward munch's 'scream'

the indian said

the wind serpent is not a child's play, yet the child becomes apparent in you

i forgot i was breathing

now i became consciously aware that i am not dead

did you travel afar

farther than a normally functioning mind ever could, i imagine

i have travelled far metaphysically, but never moved an inch

this world is a mystery for sure.. i am a little baby

i'm glad you're not into adultery

howdya know

i don't know

i once saw the eyes of an 80 year old. he had the look of a child

howdya know

i know nothing, that's what i know

the eyes are windows for sure and you do know

nothing is what i know