internalize

the present. a powerful idea that you must regularly internalize, seep into your subconscious. a sponge with all the seas soaked inside, but not spilling one bit.

one second passes, and you feel your surroundings...

--

"when will you realize me?" law asks. he isn't spinning a dagger or twig in his hand; rather, a firecracker. "let me be the firework artist inside you."

--

stay close to your arts, your feathers dipped in black ink, dripping at your command, twirling at your fingertips. tell a story with the arts around you; analyze out of curiosity with the probabilistic, machine tools you gather in research; but ultimately, pour out the expressions from the contained orbits of planets that drift about that teary child scribbling madly away, talking to himself, dancing with tiny toys in his hand.

--

"thanks for being honest."

they hadn't said a word, but I could feel it. the breath churning the sea and capsizing my ship. the only one aboard.

It's not about them. Their perspective or any of that - ignore it. It's playing for yourself. Feel yourself wanting to express at that particular time-space moment. It just so happens there are others there.

--

probably too sensitive

--

is there a message brewing inside - a witch's pot stirring slowly with colorless fumes drifting up, sealing the ceiling's cracks shut, condensing and dribbling down the stone walls of a dark cavern where you claimed - "hermit" - away from people, away from yourself. cubes and puzzles lay strewn about the stone floor, where you lay a fuzzy carpet, the kind that makes you sneeze. the pieces of the puzzles are coming off. some you tore off in frustration. of their complexity. or of their simplicity.

the message: keep it short. the world is too vast to allow such drawling tempos and sinking melodies that vaporize, launch us into a stupor midway through. we're shrinking our time capsules and downsizing the time range. perhaps cutting off keys from the keyboard, too.

constraint creates creativity. brevity, expressiveness.

drink this message whole and let the grapefruit boil and steam your throat as the revelation startles your intestines and makes you heart pound more meticulously, more carefully - not with speed, but with precision, with daring, with bravery, with concision and alacrity.

also - the pains of your days should be stored in a bottle to drink later so you can fuel the flaming arts, the pouring inclination of thoughts, that expressiveness. it fills you up like a bottle and tosses you out to sea, and you "know not where you're going for the ocean will decide" - where will you wash up? you don't know, but at some shore on some island where you can find a cavern to brew a pot of colorless fumes and a drink to pour onto the walls and melt a message there, something for the next person who washes up on shore to internalize.

sunset is opening the cracks of the ceiling of this cavern, letting moonlight in.

we step out to the moonlight - it's so bright, it feels like sunrise. we stretch. we take out our chisels. it's time to start chipping away at this cave, the surrounding stone; start carving a masterpiece. do you have enough pain to fuel it?

--

true talent and ability. kind and modest. quietly inspiring. what a human being to be friends with.