High Hanging Fruit

And from the wildness I see the ever changing collide of modern reality with the elusiveness of the dream station ... the helm of creation.

In the cradle of that babe’s heart comes the foundation of immortality. The abundance within grows like fruit under the sun, sweating purity onto a ground that holds us steady to our walk ... guiding us with intuition breathed into us from the great integrity; the ever present energy that celebrates within us.

The simplicity of everything outweighs the complexities of conception. No stories need be written, no markings on the wall. This is just a speck on the surface of it all. You are the dream. You never went to sleep. You can’t wake up.

You are endless energy melting into the minds of the masses. The essence is born a billion times. The bounty of the ether re-designs itself again and again.

Music leaks from all around and from the highest realms. This second is perfection. This very second is sacred. And each and every one that follows. With eyes shut tight in the deepest of reverie ... suck long the fruit’s nectar ... savor that taste and be humbled as eternity unconditionally kisses your face.

Jack Piatt