I have picked the stickers off of all my lighters. They are no more. They exist only in the offal depository. They are garbage to me. They have been discarded. They are no longer useful. They are obsolete to me. I am alien to them. They do not see me and I no longer am aware of their presence. They annoyed me. I didn’t like them.

 Supernatural experience. I call it a memory of what we once had. I call it a look into a perfect world. It is like the garden of eden regurgitated through the cruelty of the modern world. But oh how the memories take hold of my soul, reminding me of the days when euphoria washed over me like a thousand sand-dollars suspended beneath the surreal shining of the sun on the ocean’s pure crystalline waters. An Argonaut would indeed find it difficult to discover the location of this pure and elating sort of happiness. Bliss, mirth, whatever you call it, this act of living in unity with the forces of life, integrating yourself into the music, bowing to the will of something greater than yourself, tipping your hat to the creator, endowing yourself with a bird’s eye view of the world we live in, this act is the very fabric of relational existence.

 

Maybe the pain is something we all need to embrace,

Maybe we need to be accountable for all the actions we decide to take!