Bubble

What a delight, a laugh, a snicker or smirk: it matters not what expression comes about because joy is rolling within and outside. what a rise, what an ascension to clouds now well below the horizon and still the euphoria does not subside though snakes coil about my foot, i sense no danger, nor fear for i am not puzzled, not intrigued, not mindful when feelings are what drives me to create newer stories, better ones, more realistic ones to seduce the mind! when reality is nothing more than perception, then why bother? i've become the philosopher, the pragmatist who does not try to defend a cause, causes fall and rise when the passions bubbles, bubbles till snakes amidst my foot burrow their venomous poison inside my soles, courses through my veins and i am still giving thanks to the one who is telling me of awesome tales i much rather hear than the sickening realization that a journey is in the making, my choices leaving imprints in the sky with stars as witnesses! nah, nah, i the philosopher would much rather, much prefer to believe that i had not played the fool when reality ends when illusions fade as they always do. i guess i just have to ,make up another story, said the man rushing down to hard facts without parachutes, no longer benign when stories fall apart from the flaming arrows hurtled by angry suns. you, you, you they sang in tandem that is what made the spell so very powerful. you, you, you and then i finally heard. me, me, me vibrated a trillion times across the cosmos, and quite frankly it is all quite banal because it is the same chorus told by every living soul believing their voice most unique.