Twinkle

I went for a walk
myself and I
under the pale neolithic sky
that spans the cerebrum
of the human ape

I was so lost that I forgot
to open my mouth to speak
and yet I was heard
by myself and I

It is enchanting to be here
if I do say so myself
under the pleasantly constructed sky
reflecting the twinkles of my eyes

Strength of Strings

Dreams, dreams never change, they may wear a different coat or dye their hair, but their rawness remains. You can tell when you are in their embrace, when their soft fingers pluck your pupils and lead you to see what they want you to see. Like a television without a remote, dreams tend to show us things we do not really want to see, but are true nonetheless.

Creatures with no fixed abode, dreams flicker across the celebrated cortex, little Ronin slices of nonexistent pasts, presents and futures, trying to draw attention to the fact that the world outside is created as much as the one inside.

With this mindset, I invite you to open the window and look outside, look straight ahead and then try to sense the peripherals, things to the left of your focus area, things to the right, and if you are adventurous even things above and below. Let me know if any of the Ronin appear.