Lingering on edges, holding
fast to minute specs—it’s the dreams that awaken what might appear lost, and
sent reeling beyond logically retainable recognition.
Bug-eyed and lurking high in the sky above the dense tropical forest top, tentacles wave gently in the afternoon, post gale force winds—illuminated, angelic-glowing optic energy pixels pulse organically with a heart beat’s gentle rhythm.
Assuaged by the
aftermath’s frenetic sparks driven madly in the negative ionic storm centers,
colliding when natural elements call forth the need for another
earth-shattering dance to cleanse the viral bugs and birth newness and its possibilities—hope
springs eternal, even when lost.
Eyes do see, however, all
that lingers with bug-eyes faceted qualities, clearing away the confusion and
viewing the underlying structure and fluidity of all life.
Kat
25 July 2016
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