tired excitement
soft tunes wash over your breathless soul, slowly muting your mind's ever present, hard working voice. Is art an exaggeration of life? Is it too wishful thinking? They come in lazy waves, covering your head with a clear blue blanket of a minty fresh smell. You can't help but smile at thinking that up. What if droplets of light chased you every morning? What if they sprinkled after your every footstep? You're in creative heaven. a breeze kisses your forehead, and the fan wakes up again. Now a piano leads the stage. The ordinary comes alive with grandeur. What if people's thoughts came alive right away? What would we collectively create? You swing to the beat, keep tapping your feet, can't help but repeat, and say what's in thee. Neurons are firing, fireworks banging, your head's on a high, what's coming will shine. Words bloom by themselves like water blooms out of soil in a reverse viewing of a light drizzle video. It's the oh-so-desired mid-way plac...