They've missed the bloody point - again.
The elevator was empty, but they took the stairs.
They're drumming things into my head - again. Mundane, but potentially dangerous things. Full of green sounds. Thick things. Resilient, shock-absorbing things.
I have to be strong.
I try to follow my bliss.
I try to hear that carpenter guy who (unintentionally?) stirred the soup.
Consider de-evolution.
Consider grinding the bones of our ancestors as we dance the dance of life. The pagan two-step, if you will.
Can't they see that denying life is not a religion?
I can see the wheel in the sky. I can feel it burning. To share it with you would be wonderful.
I'm screaming the "yes" mantra - and the old gods are pricking up their ears and pushing back the coffee table.
The spark is alive.
And, even when our sun dies and plunges us into an icy void, I have a feeling it will still be burning.
Somewhere.
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