You know the feeling of being exhausted by the day's events yet unable, nay, unwilling to sleep? Unwilling to let go of these feelings and experiences and thoughts toss-tumbling in the head to simply lose the self in oblivion, to be dead to the world. On those nights, the body slumps forcefully towards rest, and yet something wants to hold on to consciousness, to feeling, to being present. A small something that wishes to remain connected to the world of the thinking, breathing, living. Of intention, and not Morpheus' realm of unconscious chaos.
Well, this is it.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
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