Cloudmind

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I think, or do I?
Ask this: is a storm alive?
The same process lights our eyes.
chemicals ionize our cloudmind heartskies
electrons flow down from highs
to fill the shallows
If you slow down you realize
We don’t do so much as just allow
These shells are mostly hollow
We don’t create thought so much as it arrives from above
the love moves through us
it does not reside
we are the filament, conduit
our path is ballistic
we sail right through it
unless we resist it or fight it or hide
we just decide when to transist this
heuristic earthsky divide
we only exist statistically
like predicting a path through a crowded nightclub
ideas are probabilistic lightbulbs
lit by electricity; a sky entity
Ionizing free will electrochemically
transmitting sacred nirvana
channeling Prana directly
lightning striking energetically
sounding frighteningly apocalyptic
grounding divine dreamforce
through cryptic neuroplasticity
discharging a circuitous course
searing a hot path, bright and loud
wonderous thunderclaps echoing
through the spirit cloud
riding an arc across a synaptic gap
consciousness cauterized
from myth to mind
from ground
to sky
and back

We are the spirit
but also the hosts
We are the body
but also the ghosts
We are the vessels
but also the source
The soul of the flame
agents of entropy
burning the fuels of life
We are the eternal mystery
behind the mask
Our entire precious history is
but the Earthward shadows cast
hypnotic illusions, our dancing lives
dissipate, rise, swirling into the winds.
Only when we die, are we free again.
interweaving each other
as the sunlight of our creator
passes through the translucent
pale blue wispsmoke
our diffuse existence
cooling as we fade to grey

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