Whoever is in the sun and shuts his eyes. Begins not to know what the sun is and to think many things of heat. But he opens his eyes and sees the sun, and he can no longer think about anything, because the sunlight is worth more than the thoughts of all the philosophers and poets. The sunlight doesn't know what it's doing and so it does no wrong but is ordinary and good. -Alberto Caeiro-
The need to see appeal in what we see is a beauty I must say. From the time you set your eyes on the shades and hues of the colors blending around, you mingle its' essence into the air you breath. All you will feel is the nurturing of it, that makes you want to feast your eyes more and more on the simplest form of detail you can. To see a variant is almost orgasmic, and the annoying space that blocks your imagination is a killer. A monster on the hunt you are for a flower with no name.
All hail randomness, all hail randomness.
The plushing velvet luxury you fly on, smoothly climbs up the clouds of inert art. All the creativity you can grasp is now in your lungs. You hold your breath with it all and a hunger leftover. A device of capture, a trap of the heart, your mind works wonders with a caption from your soul. It's yours, always yours.
No need to share it, really no one else will see it. It's your prize treasure you can manifest on. A pool of life you look into every now and then, just to remind you; you are a God. God of nature, that creates this utopia so perfect, this utopia so excellent, this utopia the drug.
You haven't seen it all till you see beyond what you behold. Let you see you.
