A Walk Threw Hail

I was walking around a field of hail. On every piece there existed the same symbol: a triangle inside a triangle, each pointing in opposite directions, creating four triangles altogether. I don't know why I am here, but it is cold. Luckily, I have winter clothes on; what a coincidence if you ask me.

       One thing I know is that that freaking tree better not be moving, and it gives me the creeps. I know that it is just a tree, but something is off about it. Evil, like it wants to kill minorities for not being white. And as for that seemingly humming hail, I've seen hail before, but something is telling me, no, singing to me, that it comes from the stars.

       Walking around hasn't moved me far, but I have no other way of transportation. I will keep on walking on til I get to that pine tree. That wicked wicked pine that won't stop... is it its leaves making that rhythm? And the hail falling sounds like a cadence of chanters shouting KK~ KK, oh you get the idea. This better not be Kabbalah. If this is Runic Kabbalah, then I'm going to shoot myself, if I get the chance, that is.

Runic Kabbalah is simple, but lots of moving parts, and lots of systems overall, but all in all it is still one whole. 

       Don't ask me how I'm connecting these dots. It just comes and goes. Got memory issues too, but they are seemingly exaggerated on this track through the hail. I wonder how much of this I am imagining, and how much of this is real. Surely I'm just walking to a normal tree, and no force discovered by anyone named Johnathan [—] is being manipulated how he wrote to manipulate it. Huh. And I've made it nearly three-fourths of the way to the tree, and the music has been getting louder. KK~ KK~. The triple beat, the forbidden, racist chant.

  I've made it to the tree, and I am lying on it. I climbed the branches, and the oil from the cones is all over the place, like fast food that my large & wide nostrils are engulfed in.