Purposeful destination to nowhere but here.

I woke from a dream that was my life as if waking from a life dreamed. Caught up in pursuit of what I don't gain yet carrying all along which I hold in worthy hand, for love. In wonderment, I explore like tea party madness falling into a darkness with much rhyme but little reason. It is desperation in want of exploring an impossible dream, or perhaps the possible reality that loses itself from view is wantonly seekable. To be the future, a well sense of being as imagined I shall be again in body that was once lost in mind (not now it catches up with itself the body and mind in almost alliance), the wished for that makes this life a muted stratus cloud to ride down with rain or snow. Lying in restraining sickness, drained my mind wanders to places never likely to be. "Hope," they say, "keep on with hope". I'd rather not want, give in to projection if I will live with such disconnection from this moment's happiness of a sort that brings stilled peace. Burnt in this noisy confusion, the human life scholars and philosophers tear into our souls apart to put together reconnected to a sense like past wisdom creeping back in, just hidden for a while that is always millennium in the making. What feels real then nudges awake is at hand one moment and gone in the toss of another. Life shifts, flexes its perspective so that we may never keep up and rest in what is for longer than a fleeting second yet those fractions of time we stretch to fit a day, a fantasy, a marriage scared in losing whilst losing it all. This time in feeling is all I truly embody, to stay is to leave, to live in purposeful observation of relationship with all that flowers and sings, grinds and halts to then let go we must to move. Feet off the ground around living without anchor to the world created by man and woman alike. Separate and connected paradoxical flow. That is my dream, this is my want of life.