glory. open up the moment. "heal my body" he'd tell them. and they would. just give them a sense of purpose and they can do anything. in his scramble of anxiety to help society, his current project is spinning a globe and ejaculating onto it, sending help to places at chances choice. that's a big key to letting the universe speak to you. it's in the bits between randomness that youopen up the cosmic voice. whether it be staring into tea leaves, conversations with the starry night or the talk of tarot cards. a cleared mind and a quick point to a random page will give you the answer to the question you've been keeping locked up and down in yourself. sometimes before you can even figure...
"...out the question. throw out the question, wait, and look into the feeling just before. The wonder that leads the wanderer."
who said this? and who is saying this? where is a feeling? what does the traveling potent pouts do when they're all made about and moved and more moments ununder?
"...out the queston and on with the quest"
The ununder was the noking of wonder,
did not serve a master, nor made ranks of men.
he wrote about stirry type thunder.
and faith stored good stories right in."
"I know a mask is not a real place to stay.
i wore it quite out and fed the stinging to day
who burned it right up to make new rooms of noon
out with the old time worshipers of soon"
"where is the waiting in which lies are alive?
i made a making of hollow parts hive
"he went on down to hollow parts hive.
boy said he's sick of the way that we talk.
of the "oh boy's" and "better be's" and the cutting of stalks.
well i'm not sure, but i know so.
that there's no use in beating the bread
if it's been already been
rack that mental makeup,
smear it around
until your no longer petty bage
or the face of a clown