Trace the Paths
I detect your motion, like the whisper of a butterfly, like the darkness of the shadows, empowered by the moment, empowered by the precise splendor of imagination on the wings of direction, holding onto something we thought we wanted, but only got in the way of the things that truly made us happy. Free to freely create, free to listen to the voice, that whispers in my ear, the humming in the background, in the shadows of the harmonies, in the repetitive motion of the neurons running this ship, I need the repeat like a drug.
I detect emotion, like a beacon of light in the darkest night, like the glory of the ocean in the moonlight, undermined by the moment, disarmed by the pure emotion, of creativity floating down the river, aimlessly searching for those times that made us laugh, but only kept us away from the universal party. I hear the thoughts of millions of people in my head, I hear their melodies and harmonies, breaking forth into the thoughts that branch apart and together like the highways decorating the earth, they’ve paved their way inside, burrowing like parasites, taking over my brain. Incessant humming, unbroken harmonies repeat, repeat, repeat; pave the way.