60 Seconds in the Morning.

In a way I saw only the beginning. Stars that poured from mouths in the dead of night, or how their faces all slightly twitched. Every thought that was in my mind seemed to speak too truly to me, too honest. In my mind streets and trees rushed passed and the wind whipped me in the face; the sky was our ocean and we rode the waves of the land on and on and on. For once I didn't know where I was, only the it was earth and that I was a pure human. For once I felt no doubt of what was real and surreal, no doubt about my projection to others, nor any fear of failure, misguidance, or simply being wrong. Everything was merry and yellow like the sun, and our faces beamed on the highway. School again until it would never end. I never saw myself or my eyes.

For once I felt as though I was just inside of my own body.

Being the beginning, the sun came over and spilled it's light into our apartment living room. Beautiful people sang through our speakers and people cooked food or tried to write and draw and paint. Study for tests, go to school, quit a job, and cleaned up messes. As human beings, people are entitled to small meaningless gestures that, for whatever reason, still effect them despite their meaninglessness. Maybe it's because everyone is an existentialist even if they don't know it, displacing their own ego and soul into things to give them meaning in their own sense, whether or not they actually created it themselves. It all comes back into them raising their awareness in some imagined way, shifting their universe a few inches to the left or the right. Screams subside and the woods whistle as the wind blows through them and I

I feel it come through me and wash me clean, and like everyone, I am born again.