Temple of rest where past lives resurface

woke up in a room alike to a sauna good for sweating out last nights elixirs and boiling back to the present where I find myself in a familiar place

there’s nothing like travelling to arenas which cling to notions of yourself at a different point in time               accessing the warp of the passage we invented  and labelled     minutes           hours               months               years   descend up  furling into  reoccurring notes

again remembering that these are just words we invented to paint what we see and hold tender (or not so) with sounds and murmurs

and so we find ourselves                        (my selves) returning back to the purest of essence

flashes of different coloured lights some dim others bright return from their temple of rest and the ghosts of moments, trances when I was caught in reverie, visit me through the rhythmic function of my mind

again retuning back to the purest of essence where each footprint is a virginal imprint onto the film captured by the lense of these eyes framing the freshness of newborn moments


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