Turbines turning by the force of the wind. My turbines turning by the force of my thought and the will to live inside each given moment. I'm traveling by myself, at this point in time, through space and mind; time is a third and at this time a less important constituent of reality. I do enjoy traveling with others, through space and mind, and time, but equally traversing them alone. It gives me moments to think, to reflect on the madness that lurks in me and around me. I'm mad for the turbines, both inspiring; may they ever turn so gracefully and circular, transforming force into power. However, what we do with that power is another matter all itself. Manifest it, keep it, share it, use it, discuss it, love it; whether we do or do not is another matter still all its own.
The music I'm digging opens up my soul. It opens it up to feel, to laugh, to smile, to dance, to indulge in psychedelic ruminations of experiences past, present, future, and, opening me to lose myself in it, the eternally now.
I'm mystified by it all. The immediate obviousness and other-dimensional mysteriousness of music and mind swirl together like a chocolate and vanilla twist cone, bringing to fruition a pleasant madness for life into this light dark void. I love paradoxes, dig.
I also love how beautiful that river just looked as we sped past it on a plane, but not of the air variety, and how it took to reflecting the sun's rays and sparkled just for me. I sparkled back. And yes, waving willows in the wind, I waved back to you as well; and sparkled.
I am mad with life and teeming with will to keep biting into it, like a juicy and crisp fall apple freshly picked from the orchard, and let its juices salivate my mouth, as I know they will, and roll down my chin, mildly sticky and infinitely sweet. Tasty apples being. Yum. Being tasty apples. Yum.