Streaming …….

I caught the surf of the brainwave and thudded and crashed on the shores of thought. The light myriad sparkling fluttering weaving magical. Wandering into the fireworks of neurons I struggle. Feet. I have feet. Wide and broad digging into grains of sand that turns to evil smelling, dust as I roll and tumble down the slopes of ideas crashing into sentences destroying meaning, scattering verbs as they seek to mate with nouns. To confine is to control to control is to lose all sense of reality and pocket it in cubes of careful design but I will not tread that winter path when all lies bleak and cold and we are far from home.

Home is where I have been confined but now set free I can wander beyond that which is sensual where even memories float away spinning like spiral arms of galaxies I rise above beyond, freedom comes in the losing of the grammar of life, of running free through darkness and light and seeing both remain the same.

There is the tide rising to the shore the fear that order will be brought out of chaos but order is a chain that binds and only in chaos can we discern the patterns that emerge till with slowly dawning joy we see that there is no chaos there is structure colour pattern everywhere, floodgates open and only letting go being swept down streets and channels dug deep with time do we come to see.

Nothingness is being full. Spirals. I like the spirals I have never seen such spirals they spin on more axes than I can comprehend. Like bubbles in a bath, a tar pit in pitting popping sand. I flow riding a light beam on the gravitational wave to edges of the galaxy and I explode in shattering myriad sparkling pieces into that which lies beyond. Language falls like tattered clothes, scattered in road by the running man. Grammar disintegrates. Here fall the thoughts that lie beyond our words. Here is being here is …..

There is string. Strung stretching strung strung strung strung string, a cord a golden cord slash swipe cut scream but nothing breaks I am lunging at the shadows of reality and I cannot break free cannot escape the clutches. Finally I reach the boundary and only then the long journey home. It seems there is no escape from the whirling cream in the coffee cup in the corner booth in …..

Yet there are screams that can rage against it all, a futile gesture plainly seen but such enjoyment in expressing the distance between might and might have been. There are bars everywhere to where we can go since we have no words to unlock our freedom unless in bouncing back across the colours we journey the other way not spreading out and not withdrawing but seeking out the vastness that appears before us as we hurtle down into the smallness of the small down below the atom field through clouds to the sea that lies beneath it all. The future is not the edge but the beginning, down and down digging deeper into the pit of the building blocks of time and solidity.

There may be a way out, to paraphrase by digging the tunnel. It won’t be China I find, but what lies behind the mask of substance seen and unseen. The glory that awaits. But the tunnel goes forever down beyond reason beyond the wildest speculation and suddenly I see what can never be seen and I turn in fear struggling to find darkness, struggling to breath struggling running….

streaming