Luxurious Dreams Lie in Truth
In the fits of the luxury we cry a lot into the dreams born of house of mirrors wanderings. Stepping blindly into open space only to crash hard upon sheer glass. A path so vividly led out in front of thy feet in the split of a second becomes all things, yet, no, now not. Heros and figures in the future begin and become to pass, eases into that lull in stormy sails. Finding that course, but is it simple to multiple hands upon the wheel. Shit! She stalled out... Driving around, driving towards. Sick of driving. The slower we go, the deeper we see, is cliche, if you can't idle a car when necessary. Flight... Hmmm, wings are earned by owning the road first. Swing first, the table needs to always be set for discussion to move, up, out, forward and towards. Course be the rocks, reef, or plane of glass.
Circus life takes all animals to the zoo at some point... Am I that guy today, or am I this other guy... Either way some form of I, will show up to this zoo life parade "towards" whatever goal is this challenge in front of, us. You say the sea looks a tad bit hostile? Sailing for fools? But the thought of hanging in nowhere is no life for someone who wants to see the sea. Chip away at another piece of glass, scraped by your now half broken nose, this shape leads to a fractured view of walking with plans like those. Again the spill into another way of this turning, what now, iceberg you says... Hmmm... Creatures adrift in the same winds either decide to work with not against, or perish into the wisps of the hour glass's hurricane.
Crank away at what sail you can use to see the world, wind and all. Maybe tomorrow that sunrise will be worth it, but as of today, and every today after this, it must be full sheets to the wind. Perishability, is something I like to weed out in my everyday turned skilled base. Sucks to get stuck, in anything, personal shit cake and all. If you made it and stepped in it, then everyone deserves to wear it. So we be covered in our own crap to find sail a full. Is this further from right? Intending makes little sew, fabric seems tough to hem. How this masterpiece will fly on the mast, becomes the biggest question when sailing with tapestries. Been one found on the rocks in a lifeboat before, but I've helmed a few into the reef myself. Wrap thy knuckles upon the helm and turn this bad ass option, this life has handed us into maybe just one more way to more than just nothing. Tied to the wharf in a storm my ass.
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