Use any name
Rising Star
- Merits
- 42
So last week, or close to, I smoked a hit in my garden.
Late night. Trees obeying the winds whimsy. Moon overhead, boldly proclaiming the will of the sun. Few clouds, pale blue, wispy, edges glowing.
Sat breathing deeply I try to clear my mind, a difficult task but given enough time the echos of my days experience reseed from my being. rolled in with the tobacco I'm about to consume is a small, I'm not sure how, hit of D.M.T.. Gazing upwards I let out a great sigh which I use as a sign to begin. cigarette to lips, fire to cigarette. As I'm smoking, the sky slowly clouds over and the wind begins to pick up. Sacrament taken I am thrown into chaos with the trees as they violently struggle with the wind in its new found ferocity. I picture the presence of mad Gods above, concealed now by the clouds. For now I don't look up. confused and lonely, lost in dead ends I feel a truth of my situation. I feel it though not with anguish, nor anger, or even self pity, although I have in the past, but with a subtle smile for I know it is just a joke. I know, although struggling, I could plot my behavior to a more fruitful course. I had even been doing so, but sometimes I lapse back into a defeatist point of view. The humor I feel for this situation raises my mood and with it my posture straitens and I become more relaxed. I feel that I am balancing on a point of clarity. With an investigative look up I banish the "phantoms" that plague me. Shadows of my own self doubt superimposed on the forces around me. At least that's one way I could look at it.
Late night. Trees obeying the winds whimsy. Moon overhead, boldly proclaiming the will of the sun. Few clouds, pale blue, wispy, edges glowing.
Sat breathing deeply I try to clear my mind, a difficult task but given enough time the echos of my days experience reseed from my being. rolled in with the tobacco I'm about to consume is a small, I'm not sure how, hit of D.M.T.. Gazing upwards I let out a great sigh which I use as a sign to begin. cigarette to lips, fire to cigarette. As I'm smoking, the sky slowly clouds over and the wind begins to pick up. Sacrament taken I am thrown into chaos with the trees as they violently struggle with the wind in its new found ferocity. I picture the presence of mad Gods above, concealed now by the clouds. For now I don't look up. confused and lonely, lost in dead ends I feel a truth of my situation. I feel it though not with anguish, nor anger, or even self pity, although I have in the past, but with a subtle smile for I know it is just a joke. I know, although struggling, I could plot my behavior to a more fruitful course. I had even been doing so, but sometimes I lapse back into a defeatist point of view. The humor I feel for this situation raises my mood and with it my posture straitens and I become more relaxed. I feel that I am balancing on a point of clarity. With an investigative look up I banish the "phantoms" that plague me. Shadows of my own self doubt superimposed on the forces around me. At least that's one way I could look at it.