One perfectly placed splash cymbal in the midst of a driving bass dominated drum beat and reverberating guitar kisses makes it all worth it. To just catch it right then and there. When the sky turns the perfect shade of a color there are no words for. Or to be able to catch the surface of the water moving because of the wind. Ripples. Echoes. Spaces and chasms waiting to be filled. Fulfilled. And the words fail. The moment they escape the mouth they’ve already fallen into the realm of inevitable futility. Death is the mother of beauty. And makes everything seem so silly. And in that state of silliness and imperfection value becomes clear to the mind. Roam and wander. Roar and wonder. What if? And if that “if” is misplaced there’s no sense in erasing it. Suspend your disbelief for more than a moment and close your eyes: how long did it last? When nothing changes time stands still and is chained by itself. Mute the immutable if you are able and sustain. Sustain! Change your mind as many times as you wish. The next fleeting second will bring chances for a million revisions and reversed decisions in addition to fulfilling our original mission. And intentions bring too many things to sing about. Stare and stare and kiss the sun as many times as it takes to get the burn off of your lips. To exist and to subsist–I’d rather insist. But to commit is another subject altogether. Entirely. The cool night is an envelope and I am the letter. Stuff me inside and lick the seal. Nothing better than to be sent on the way to where “I belong” is the banner written overhead. Delivery! Here we go and away.