It can be difficult to know where to begin.
I dreamt of the waves again last night
Furious and sharp,
coming from the black places,
where ecstasy has been excluded.
I was ready to welcome the heat
on my skin and hair,
Ready for the clash.
I was seeking.
The dreamscape was calling,
an evolving transmission of sublime passion.
It was only the tip of the fountain.
The water in which I swam,
it was originally stored in a moonlike bowl
beneath the roof of the highest temple.
It flowed out, drop by drop,
passing through the five hidden chambers.
The act thus obtained a cosmological dimension,
a tale of beginnings
and shades of gray.
You and I are now travelers
who keep the water up and flowing.
Who are we?
We are a world of contrast
Clashing with gods unknown.
Our bodies are nurtured by their flesh.
Their dreams we drink,
their colors we must fear as we fear death.
The essence of our nature is clashing.
We exist as electrical impulses.
We emerge like waves
from the temple.
We are riders
on the shape of contrast.
I dreamt it all again last night.
I thought I should tell you.