people read all my crap entries, i want this to be different

2003-09-22, 12:18 p.m.

when you walk, the ground lets your feet move without effort. when the ground and the trees meet, when the water drips into puddles, the softest whimper is in the air. the softest light is shown upon your legs, and you are walking into velvet night forever.

i looked up and the moon had been blown up, or had disowned its former state, retiring to a field of a million different flowers, all of whom wore white petals. what had happened to the circular origin, it floated down and filled the air, like fog but thicker, more reflective. i wondered why she could choose a world of flowers instead of a world of seranades, sonnets, flowing emotion; children on earth paying homage in their dreams.

that could be the way things were, continual motion and unobstructed thought. no definite position, only an independent velocity, i could choose that bit and that bit alone.

'when the doors of perception are cleansed, everything will appear as it truly is, perfect'

cycling through yuor head, bounding over doubts and remorse -such silly little mannerisms we all have- making the opportunity for that cleansed perception possible. but it's like the idea for a windshield protectant, the only end would be reflected sunlight; blinding the oncoming traffic; you could never be understood, and you could never understand beliefs outside your own.

something about the glow tonight tells me i could be wrong, infinity paves way to inevitable probablity.