Sitting on the floor with more layers on than before when I ran outside and played football at a middle school. Not against the students. That might be rude and lets remember that a group of seven means a permanent Q, and you get tired faster when it is colder out. Its harder to breathe. Sometimes in those ‘thin places’ where the distance between somehow feels closer or more prevalent than it ever has before. The connection is greater, and deeper somehow. I become NOW for the sake of not dwelling on the past or becoming unbecomingly stressed about the future. This day is enough to suit your needs and wants. Even if you are wearing muddy sweats while you type like I am. Dried out. The mud that is. Really more like dust at this point, that is fadedly embedded into the cotton fibers. I am a wanton cypress tree that bends to accomodate the light it receives through the window of begin though in mind and finish with physical. Say this in a certain way and the curtain may draw to reveal this as lyrical. Its not a big deal dot com, that my team may or not be the bomb or repeal the title of the last years’ champions as if it hadn’t happened in the first place. I’m kicking the can and rappin about damp means to ends that both satisfy and gratify those means and make them nices. Nieces at least that remember releases from swings to jump into leaves that have come to rest at the foot of the school yard. Though the fool falls hard, the true renaissance man finds a way to win. The war if not the battle, only war is bad, so you pick the word you like and put it in, in its place.
Fingers hit the pulse of the rhythm and follow it to the source at its core even if you can’t know what’s in store in this rant. Arcs, peaks, and troughs with occasional time in the land of milk and honey. Only the milk is the cream of this crop, and the honey is as sweet as a honey badger’s drip drop. You’ve had your chance to take the stage, so sit back and listen, gleaming from the gloaming, while I might cut fast or relax and glisten as I’m teaming up with whoever’s roaming. Knowing is such a bold word when you think of coming to knowing, but growing up and going through pain is one of the main shows that is worth showing.
Search the screen for what it all means and be disappointed, disjointed perhaps, but at least flustered. You’ve mustered up enough courage to trust your instinct even if it has brought you to the brink of disaster. When you’ve out lasted your friends and strangers become enemies, the memories when we freeze them and bury them in the back don’t lack their potency when thawed out. I got out of my own way and now its hot out in opposite world. Boys and girls rise up and dream of a land in which there was no stress, no traffic, no war, and virtually no mess. After you think of it smile and sit back and hold on to nothing less than striving for perfection. I seem to favor the mess a fair bit, unknowing if its this or their hit to release into the air in the hopes that someone hears it. Not just hears it but feels it. Not just feels it but understands to it. Not just understands it but can relate to it. Not just relate to it but appreciate it. Not just appreciate it, but just plain love it. Cause above it is nothing and below it isn’t enough yet. Which riddle do you want to unravel as the gavel comes down on if and when you travel? How did I get here now? My claim isn’t unique. My talent is not extraordinary. I just need to rant a little and lay down text to store in many places and times, with many faces on many climbs. My body aches, but my eyes feel free, and I have past mistakes that I can still see.
However, that isn’t the summation of me or you, or anybody for that matter. The chatter can be overcome within those thin places that beckon to us, and that we desperately need. Had her and him or she and he done differently then they might be doing a different thing, but is ever so important to hear your heart sing. Cling to that now on the rooftops, wherever your hoof stops, or pauses in awe. Remember the applause that you saw behind the sparkles across the horizon, knowing in your heart in the dark they will wisen. Three tries then you are locked out. Knocked out, reviewing what just happened. The math didn’t add up and it seemed that the chap would end, something came in and said hold on. It won’t be cold long, and the seasons will change. This too shall pass seemed altogether strange when it was said, but it was meant in love, from heart and head to toe. Going with the flow has just blown up the low, but I keep not knowing when I will be grown up enough to know. Maybe never, maybe ever so soon. Sitting back keeping pacts with a rhythm that swoons.