Everything
seems like
coincidences that actually love me
That want to guide me
All of it
Everything
My surroundings have been painted in royal hues that have transformed the content of my atmosphere
Everyone points this out every time that there comes the chance
But, chances do not exist
They are not constructed within the barriers of time
Chances are that chances are something much more holy then we could have ever dreamed
Synchronicity is the divinity that silences the pitch of inner voices with all of their annoying screams
That bitch that turns into a banshee when we lose ourselves to what remains of our woe
It knows nothing now
Not any longer
The will to live is stronger that it has ever been
Everyone wants to win and winning is not a wicked game
It is when we all come forth from the silence in unison to prove to our creator that we are still one in the same
To chant our visions to the skies in the various tongues that know His sacred names
Nothing differs nor sounds the same in the wretched world of one on one
We should have known from the moment that we found our breath that such a silly concept equals certain doom
The room suddenly becomes thick with the vibrant stench of human bullshit
The Taurus squeezing taurine from its own testicles sparks the hearth fire, pushing balls to move everything forward
Stopping only when desire gives us our only need for any reason to have natural urges
To be penetrated by the shafts of our brave new warriors
Our boys, our men
The synchronicity is booming all around us
Spring has arrived to re-warm our wigwams so gallantly once again
Planting only the seeds that we know that we want to sew this time around
Leaving nothing out
No part of this Earth shall be barren
Nothing without the fruits of labor and roto-tilled soil
Everything is coming back together and nobody really seems surprised
Even the weather with all of its craziness lately seems so content
So synchronized...
3/9/2014