spontaneous thoughts

as the sun rises on one side of our world it sets on the other and the moon phases into a new crescent lighting up the night sky, and your self has been enlightened by some kind of epiphany and time moves on taking you with it while we circle and spiral around somewhere in the universe and expand our knowledge base sending computerized probes out into the stellar galactic magnitude.                                                             

                                                                                

as civilization builds more and more highrises top the skyline, people are born and die, poverty separates from the rich and super rich and everyone is exasperated by class and race and religion and still we are one people on a little planet in the grand universal picture. life goes on and we make due with our skills and human nature.

another emotional and passionate thought:

music tells stories with sound and lyrics just add passion to the music

and without words the music carries you on and back in memory

percussion resounds and your own thoughts pound in your skull.

somewhere in time the present exists; but no one knows exactly aware; parallel universes possibly exist. besides it really doesn't matter; no one gives a darn except for their own present reality; 

history is made every moment in the time continuum.

                                                                                             

it's dark in the shadows of the craters on the moon and somewhere

someone considers weather the moon is all dark

or our thoughts are enlightened by creative thinking or

perhaps it's all dark

except for that one light thought that always seems to float away.

visions, dreams, remembrances;

making a name for your self;

you've already become a legend;

people talk about you, and you talk to your self

and to God if you believe.

not an easy task.

awaking with startling imperfections,

you try to correct to no avail;

an exercise in futility.

you wonder what comes next?

tomorrow always comes.

your legacy still is forming

experimental thinking in an imperfect world;

you wonder of your own utopia.

desolate, alone and alienated

altered humanity races forward and backward

in a singularity built especially for you;

never mind the rest of the world

it will not rest, but you find the time

in your busy schedule.

you reside in a flat, your own sanctuary

the one you call home

but no one answers the phone

except a machine that says

please leave a message.

you plan your day of leisure

your narcotic memory

and some bourbon, and a half pack of cigarettes.

the day fades with its own glory

but you live on thru the night.

satisfied but not content

you always remember except when you choose to forget.

beside your self and still

trying to understand God's will

if only you could be quiet and still

you still wonder

no wonder you can do that at all.