Capricious

74 - Shards of Dreams

"The answer is dreams. Dreaming on and on. Entering the world of dreams and never coming out. Living in dreams for the rest of time."
- Haruki Murakami

Flooding high throughout the city, bathing in sparkling lights so pretty, from dusk till dawn, from roar to yawn, raring so cool and so witty.

Free to run away
Soaking within our own glow
We bursting ideas

A city full of memories, this rich diversity blending cultures so well, bathing in sophistication as I feel my way through it all.

Connections forged from sharing passions around, minds developing all angles that we have otherwise found, enough ourselves and more of the future we seek, bound by bonds against souls that are basic and meek.

I might roam around the city to be, a wanderer straying for whatever enchantment I see, sample its delights and move on through, from one to the next with whoever is true.

I'm drawn on by interesting tales of history, how all came to be in this realm of mystery, our stories we draw in memory and time, my own into a sketching of words and rhyme.

In life we're guided by a sense of purpose, our intellect driving in the best direction to achieve it. Whether this purpose comes from faith or moments of deep impact or delusions of grandeur. Without this purpose however we become lost and depressed, losing sight of life. Without being able to carry out this purpose we become frustrated and cruel. It is purpose that drives the world, and it is true purpose that I must find.

Fluid we ride and fluid we role, raring and raging from deep in our soul, with hearts of snow and hearts of coal, yet bound to pay an exacting toll.

A thunder of mellow tragic to all, they which rise are surely to fall, jumping from reality for a second or two, then torn straight back in without even a clue.

So be it to be a catalyst, the burden of the strategist, leading reactions all around, and yet leaving my mind still sound.

A weak peace diluting the human race, the powers that be having more than one face, progress and regress just exchanging hands, along with our liberty, culture and lands.

The days of romance are at an end, the days of flash and sexual delight, I've grown up beyond zealous dreams of mesmerisation, only to begin a grander fight. Still I try to bend to my plotting mind, sail calm but swift to fields of magic, bask in the ardent glow of golden thought, while systemically pulled by strings so tragic. There are eclectic storms buried deep within myself, still raging in stories left behind, ever itching to flirt with idealisation, and all elements of transcendence that I can find. Times ago I would lose myself in ecstasies of passion, surrounded by masters of unexpected pleasure, back in realms bursting in fits of adventure, all lost as rain washes the gold from treasure. Too much I think and too much I forget, crying inside for pains more extensive than my own, I'm blank and dead and losing all I was, my soil too poor for seeds to be sown. I am now but a drone in this spiritual war, fighting through the unforgiving trials of the hornets' nest, too woke and too broke to be characters once dreamed, on to plainly blend in among the rest. My mind is clear but my soul is in pain, drugs and friends only passing rays of light, rushing and wasting away the time that I have, this easy ride drawing day into night.

All far too heavy
Pressures of my existence
They are crushing me

And just like that, it flows into me, melting my entire soul into liquid creativity. Ideas flaring and thundering all over the place, involved in each other's stories and dreams, exploring deep into souls with my inquisitive demeanour, we dance our dance with conversations striking deep, flavoursome secrets lathering all interaction with sparks of identity. Intense emotions embracing this ride of creamy magnitude, bursting in passion with every running thought and feel, mixed arrays of glittering realities, our perception floating in psychedelic waves. Eyes watering in pleasure, soaked with an absolute and honest love for the friends I've truly found.

I can feel the echoes of life, sounding through my flesh, light and airy and floating along, the gentle aftermath of the sesh.

I'm planting seeds, revolutions and dreams, what this may really mean, ideas yet to be seen.