Tumultuous Intimidation

And then for a moment my mind drifts to all the places it has visited over the years. All of the miraculous beauty it has gathered from faces and places, sounds and scenes to resurrect the want of goodness as the will to endeavor as a true soul alive with the urgency of living; allowing the eye catching color of compositions in another's face to decorate my wants of unexplored longings, the multi colored tints of their hair to inspire my need of gentleness, the tones of voices to lead me beyond the barricades of isolation where no eye can see inside me. Unfettered with the nuances of nostalgia inside a plethora of riddled muddle, my thoughts rise like a light as to not disturb the living committed to imprisoned ideas wrapped in learned thinking, categorized and cataloged according to their own purposes. The eyes of my searching, scanning all could be existence, knowing there is always a better idea of indulgence to sate lost hopes of dreams born to be demolished by the hands of man. Only the ridiculous would call such visionary journeys a "dreamers rebellion", only the most absurd would call it a waste of time, for life is many things society can't ransack to sale or construct to coalesce into another's destruction. For thoughts are as they are; free to explore yearnings unattended by fates. Useless to those who compute value by numerical dividends. For they rise and fall like the evenings dew to evaporate in mornings light where the ingenuity of industrial adversaries have relinquished their abilities to innovate demolitions as mastery; leaving behind the creation of living and being alive in harmony with all life as it is. Ah, the exhilaration of consideration illuminating the inward garden of soul needed hope from quiet times spent in repose; appreciated only for what they are. And while heaven is described as a distant mirror of being alive, my eternal now displaces the ancient teachings of obedience to fornicate among the ideas of it existing ever present in each of us, wanting only to be acknowledged for what it could be to all as a place in our life. The genteel voice of assurance that comforts all inner strife, granting the welcoming acceptance of a passionate compassion that casts out all fears giving birth to anguishing hates; soothing again the minds of wearied bodies with delicate touches of acceptance. An endless outpouring of protection against greed's destruction's as dictated by soulless congregations of militarized, political, computerized preachers in new age rags made from the burial cloths of their professions. Bare with me love, as my hands search for words to describe the unrecorded moments of swimming in the seas of your enticing being. Where all understanding is unspeakable within such confines of human opinion which prod us for our attention; while our unyielding wantonness of a pure truth in pleasured thoughtfulness can only be created by the elements of our knowing what it is that propels our desire to create from our existences the oceans in which we would swim, in search of lost treasures, ravaged by times tumultuous intimidation. Jade Jaspers