CONFESSIONS OF EMERGING GUY
by Brian Ross
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
i've heard tell of the creative being always @ the ready to jot down what, @ the moment, appear to be extemporaneous & fruitless little tidbits of ideas. premise being, that these fleeting thoughts are premature bits of genius yet to be fleshed out. some apparently are chosen to cook a bit longer on paper till the time be right for them to be born or aborted into our present reality.
i seem to be experiencing 1 such moment. it feels odd. the innate & unknown not allowing me peace until some attempt is made to record it.
i can't help but wonder the ways of the vibratory rauch & how i can't help but believe that he deliberately makes his presence known to us in spite of our reluctance or complete inability to recognize it. his perfect resonance sending appropriately sized ripples throughout our existence that disturb the curtain enough for us to see, however briefly, the workings behind our scenes that would otherwise be quite maddening if seen more often. the surreal moments where it all makes sense & we press on knowing what we always believed to be so regardless of how ridiculous it sounds when played logically.
the same rauch that hovered over the void all those years ago, still flexes his immanence & reassures the broken spirit today as he always has. allowing the near-sighted to gaze in glory of how the light attaches to his own & how it's up to us as to how we redirect the radiance. seeming downright criminal that we can exert our own constitution to swallow the beam whole, we should rather strive as the glorious 1's to allow it to be a beacon for other beam-swallowers who ignorantly grope in their own perpetual darkness.
the choice is really a no-brainer, but unfortunately all don't concede to proper perspective. there are as many reasons for this as their are folks that make 'em, but none borne from the womb of justification, rather the bastard offspring of explanation. orphanages filled to crawling room only for the excuse makers.
i'm a blessed man.
beyond my own believe.
now, if i could only remember to stop downing the beam...
i seem to be experiencing 1 such moment. it feels odd. the innate & unknown not allowing me peace until some attempt is made to record it.
i can't help but wonder the ways of the vibratory rauch & how i can't help but believe that he deliberately makes his presence known to us in spite of our reluctance or complete inability to recognize it. his perfect resonance sending appropriately sized ripples throughout our existence that disturb the curtain enough for us to see, however briefly, the workings behind our scenes that would otherwise be quite maddening if seen more often. the surreal moments where it all makes sense & we press on knowing what we always believed to be so regardless of how ridiculous it sounds when played logically.
the same rauch that hovered over the void all those years ago, still flexes his immanence & reassures the broken spirit today as he always has. allowing the near-sighted to gaze in glory of how the light attaches to his own & how it's up to us as to how we redirect the radiance. seeming downright criminal that we can exert our own constitution to swallow the beam whole, we should rather strive as the glorious 1's to allow it to be a beacon for other beam-swallowers who ignorantly grope in their own perpetual darkness.
the choice is really a no-brainer, but unfortunately all don't concede to proper perspective. there are as many reasons for this as their are folks that make 'em, but none borne from the womb of justification, rather the bastard offspring of explanation. orphanages filled to crawling room only for the excuse makers.
i'm a blessed man.
beyond my own believe.
now, if i could only remember to stop downing the beam...
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