word explosions

There are those wet and cloudy days that have surpassed themselves in my mind by the feeling they used to arise in my innermost sense of warmth and personal protection. The guiding forces of shelter and support providing the quiet moments of reflection upon the renewals of your own mind and ego by the understanding of the waters refreshing qualities and renewing cycle of life. The only long bouts of inner discussion and personal reflection they have elicited give me pause to the open discourse that has been lost and the cross personality mixing of perspective that gives so much joy and understanding to the human consciousness. This understanding of ones self as the collection of your own perception of someone else's feeling and sensory identification with the atmospheric contextual awareness new and perpetual processes bring to a day fraught with the needs and concerns of some utterly important task and responsibility to provide that sense of oneness and place and commitment to your level of prosperity and protection within the structures and strictures of the world at your locus of control can be easily forgotten, it can be easily taken for granted as you rush to fill in your time with something more exciting or novel. The real days of glory and contentment can come from knowing that I have felt this way before and I want to feel this way again, and this day means I can achieve that, I have the will and the means to be this person for the well being of myself, for the well being and goodwill of mankind that allow me and invest with me in this yearning for success, and for the well being and continued enjoyment of those moments of natural and organic cycles that seem so commonplace when you are young and divided against yourself, or pristine and awe inspiring in those moments when your head can sense the real beauty you have witnessed in providing the inner spirit of your life to the world and can sense the returns making their mark on your life and winding their minor chaotic series of sensual delights into your own sense of righting the arrows you have shot into the targets on the hill or deep into the dark spaces in the corner. Backwards and forwards the time of your life does not seem the same, but contests of the mind can make one blade of grass look identical from all sides.