I’d never admit it.
But I actually do wish to make beautiful things.
I know what has moved me in this lifetime and I know to pay special attention to it.
I actually like being humbled, and I like admiring..
But you don’t give that shit away.
Not for name.
Not for spoils or for body count.
The work.
I said that in the beginning, it is the only thing worth envy.
Where the magic is and where it comes from.
Do not understand death.
Do not understand life or it’s Many coincidences.
Do not understand paths and crossroads, chance meetings and all the weird shit that happens to you between destinations.
But you know magic.
A language that we all recognize.
Just the right notes at just the right time, just the right rhythm.
Feel it in your spine.
Universal and the great equalizer..
I want.
Seek.
Desire.
And I can feel happy alllll by myself.
If I can touch it.
There’s something there.
I do know that.
And it makes me happy to be alive..
Everything else is just noise, circumstance, the sound of a Crowd around you and countless voices..
(doesn’t matter)
Not even a little.
Toss identity.
Opinion or conviction.
Exhale when the day is done, close your eyes and wish for spark.
Don’t beg.
She can smell that shit.
Don’t grovel.
Don’t make empty promises.
Just be still.
Open to it .
The things you’ll notice increases at an incredible rate.
The clouds,the moon, each blade of grass.
The sounds around you.
The bitch ass motherfucking traffic, all those humans and all that shit they need.
The trucks that bring it to them.
(don’t get overwhelmed…)
I know…I know..
Selective.
Tuning an antenna 📡
Selective.
Love is in there.
Feels good to feel.
dawn 