Calibrations.......

Calibrating the thought patterns and the mind set, the wind whispers it's intimacies with every gust , providing the point of relevance in the present, whilst the calmness takes it's place in the darkest recesses, which up to this moment had been buried under an avalanche of the outward stimulus, moving inward, and in the process dispossessing the truth of uniqueness, while giving a false sense of security in an aberrant landscape of identifying self with the manifestations of another's desire of what an individual is in a society driven by it's own greed and the inanimate constituents of what wholeness and well being comprise of.

Awaking from the slumbers of an illusion, the road to perdition takes on the most unlikely hues and resonance, as it whispers it's through the long grasses, swaying and moving the flexibility of it's own stillness.

Pernicious pain stakes it's hold in the fields of roaming, where each moment the feeling of aliveness flows through the veins and makes itself acknowledged.

Flipping through the pages of the transient ambiguities, the neon sign flickers in the tumultuous silence of the throbbing tendrils of pain set free.

Doing the tango through the dichotomy and the invested layers of emotionality, each moment takes on it's own guided life, as the attitude, stance and flow glides across the field of dreams.

Exquisite subtleties encroach on the awareness with their gilded patterns of connection, slowly settling in and usurping all the previous calibrations.

In the darkness and shadows of overwhelming fear, a spotlight catches the mysterious woman singing her heart out, on the crest of joy and jubilation.

The inward exuberance of the light catapults itself in it's own arc and ambiance outwards, as the acknowledgement of this inner core essence pierces the darkest shadows of doubt, fear and insecurity.

Letting go of the disruptive  and unproductive patterns, the flow incorporates the dualities and the dichotomies as one, setting up a domino effect on the  flow of progression.

The once stranded caravanserai flows with the subtleties of movement and form, as the sloughed off skin is left to bake in the dunes of the past.

The encroaching strains of the violin float on a dust stained breeze, as the skin picks up it's allocation of goose bumps and all becomes vacuous in the supreme quietness of being.

A fedora's  silhouette, bombarded in the last rays of the sun, ushers in the essence of a willingness and urgency to seize each fragment, as if it were the last.

Walking the gilded path of opportunity, sustained in the truth of purpose, a fern gently sways it's arms of magnificent foliage,  touching  the holy grail of the essence of comprehension  of what is, as all else, pales into the ether of illusion.

The whispering wind is the constant companion, guiding, giving freely, sharing the intimacies of wholeness, for each one, that is willing to sense and hear.