The Sky Is Green The Grass Is Blue.

The sky is green the grass is blue. I miss you, but I also see you. My soul is free as my physicality’s found the earth to be too restrictive in its meticulous-mannerisms. Civilization is no place for an artist to create. The cuffs of life itself kept my spirit subdued to enduring endurance. There was an elephant-in-the-room competing with a rat-race that compulsively recycled through each generation to the next. The pressures of living life for a system and not a purpose hindered my abilities to see the light that was never there in the first place. You’ve never seen colors as vibrant as they are here. You’ve never stroked a brush with paint so smooth. The only pressures here are laid by the weights I build my passions with. The only darkness is that of which I wish for in order to restore balance to a steady stream of light. My mind floats like the desert-sky, each thought the flame of a burning-star. There’s a silence I’ve never heard before. A sheep is only a sheep if you declare it to be so. There’s a warmth so embracing, encompassed by the herd of which my wrist has declared so many times before. The ocean needn’t cleanse me no longer, for my spirit now purifies the salty-waters that once purified me. Music is not listened to, but encompassed. I don’t need ears to hear the energy that soaks through the expansions of vastness I now call my forever-playground. I’ve learned that I don’t need ears to comprehend what my soul already knows. All I truly need is my nose to smell the velvety-red of the cake baking to fruition.

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