Let it Flow

Let it flowwww from the tips of your fingers and toes and tongue. Let it roll off your nose, pour forth from your mind. Let it fall out of your being into a being of its own. Let it flow.

What dreams of neverlasting sweet embrace doth drive the tickled tremors of a poet’s open breath? Who stands that would wish a man to deny the very moment of action before it has had chance enough to unfold? Standing tall and feeling the gentle currents of emptiness within our breast and belly and back, float through moments as through cool mist on a warm day, find in them the expression of a bright and glimmering joy in the midst of others’ sorrows. Sink backwards, hang daintily on the breath, and notice that in this very moment nothing can be found except freedom.