The Ecstatic

I’ve been in waterfalls
Ones that cascade till lids fall dormant
The rules of the escape

Heard of words that speak beautiful
Like reciting illustrations of mr. magnificent
Will no longer stick

Believe that freedom is foreign to many
That’s why the cocoon stays
Blazes it’s glory to spite its own destiny

Witnessed this life
On pause and on rewind
Still shots running rampant with perfection

The pen had an aroma of soil, death
Failures, unions, burning and guts
The beginnings in last calls

Skies fell apart, descended
Swept away into gravity, and kept returning
The way it has been

Microcosm of life, death or magic?
More like nothing, and
Everything. It’s
The Ecstatic

Published by Kevin J

I think I write to try to explain moments that I don't truly understand. That's why I have a tendency to be wordy. The closer I am to minimalism, the better off I am. I also do it to keep records of what I was thinking at certain periods of time, so some kind of footsteps are left showing me how I got here. Looking back, it seems inevitable that I am where I am now; couldn't have been anywhere else. I don't have any goals for the future, except for trying to enjoy it. I'm the opposite of most people I know; I no longer want to know what is coming up next. I just want to create the road and ride, or not create it and ride anyway.

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