Magnificently Alive

I don’t feel sad, joy, rage or glory anymore. I don’t know why. Ofcourse I know why! I gather I am bit of off the track at the moment. Bit of shock bit of everything. Probably stimulated my nerves so much. My feeling armor-plated of stimulus. Sealed off, off limited myself “don’t feel, don’t do dodo do”. Tucked into mountain hilltop gazing out self-infatuated destructions. Any means senses of bareness, everywhere so barren, dry dead. Ashes you know ashes that is nest of a firebird you know that too. The firebird rises from its own ash, magnificently flapping its giant fire wings, its red eyes blazing to the sun consummated each other then rise its nest to the east and around pyramids you know that too. Antipathetic traitors with shotgun on your well to do head you courtesy and mummery your own feeling cannibalized your own fear. Prematurely aborted fetus, no sense of life, die within everything. But everything like that way eventfully aren’t they? Wonder when all the skeletons of trees thwack their leaves, feel sorrows again. Little yellow greenish mouths misty lick saying “O what a sleep!” as if nothing happen, lazy cat stretch splendorous stepping out again, Hungary little misty lips here there at branches, hangs on their soft faces giggling whispering with sweet scents, melting silence butterflies summer, gowned with cobalt organza and come again, now they only harvest dead crops. Smell of rotten dead stinking. How much you can embalm rotten corpses? that is corpses. Lifelessness is embalmed ashes. Dead mean dead nothing else, not a flesh, not blood streams flow along with bluest eyed sky stepping kicking his life with vigor, O but…yes than they can cry too. I don’t meditated anymore because bit of ridiculous. Why should I? Summer should be always outrageously ominously splendor, lush shivering thunder storms highlight with his raged hellish lightning lightning is wearing a dark majestic rob marches with his chariot, come with tones of thunderbolts, wheeling over enthralling strikes here strikes there into the dark dark field raging sea, yes magnificent rage rage! Pouring wrath into the sea of rain. Kquunkg Kkwang Kkwang Kqwnking … Thronging of tears. That is how should sky angry, feast hearts, not half eaten, but eats utterly greedily carnivorously. That is how sky should feel. Feel alive feel the life, not dead but magnificently alive…