i'm following a great yellow lion through a corridor and the doors open in a burst of reverie and he disappears leaving me alone and unsure about where i am. each day waking to a new dimension; that crack was there before? this food is different the CocaCola is bitter-er the sun is dim-er or I am older & wiser and full-er and awake. discovered a grove underneath H., lit up with circular white globes and the grass is soft and uneven & big trees line the border. at the western end are four circular flat squares full of pebbles and rocks perfect for fires at night looking at the stars and the mountains. to the northern and southern sides mansions spring up, all windows and Tall and they burn inside with empty souls wandering and I am paranoid of their trust of what they will do to this stranger penetrating their cultivated perfection; but this must be penetrated. the grove has a tunnel that leads into darkness. when we walk to the grove the wind is usually blowing and the lights along the way they are fractured fragments of orange and yellow beams shooting out. approaching each day can seem overwhelming; I sit down, anywhere, just for a minute trying to collect myself but all that happens is a great pressure feeling about all the substance of doing and All the things that I have started that will some day need finishing. Finish the run the race the goal Round continue exasperation / rejuvenation. i am overwhelmed and underwhelmed and All at once or just one at a time; everytime i go out walking i can cement either one idea at a time and deal with each one accordingly like a conveyor belt; or blank my mind and absorb the wilderness. it would be wonderful to be able to play with the surroundings like god, waving our hands about to make this come That go, make brighter / dimmer, add / remove I want a party there and voices to be shouting off there, companions coming and going. blankness disappearing and all around me deep in meaning. it all just keeps passing by air and wind and life and we are in it. i am walking along the desert looking out at the road watching the cars pass by, 'i don't think they can see us,' and for sure they are in their own minds wrapped up in the affairs of home-coming soon to be asleep in bed after nightly order clockwork. she must be feeling everything i feel and thinking about me and the same goes for him; & all of us must be feeling at some points the depths of Alone. this place that is in all of us and thats why the grove is beautiful; empty and when visitors come its just like our meetings we breathe new life into each other but is it enough. the grove lives there for how long? and its always a seesaw. i hate the up & down and living sometimes just this giant torture rack strung along the machine is loosened and my bones shiver relaxing in pain but now slowly painless. i think about the distant night sky how when you leave the city its a wash of white overhead with stars & Shots of light Burning across, paths and the All Motion a universe crying and loving at the same time.