We are Fractal Dreamers for In Love Unlimited
We are fractal dreamers leaving behind pieces of ourselves as we move through our days of daze.
Hunting voices in a maze of lost thoughts. Living in echo chambers of our own creations powered by the push of society’s imposed illusions.
Dust Covered Soles, our souls, lose the truth of their light, our light, the more we listen to that which does not have our best interests at heart, your heart, my heart, all of our hearts, really just one heart fractured into fractals.
With these Patterns tracked on with heavy feet, and our ideals blown to the winds or other people’s desires, we all lose our way, our childhood’s imagination of what life can be, should be if only we recall how to listen and act for our higher selves, our heart’s desire, our first love, adventure, exploration and wonder.
Instead, wind blown bricks scatter as rain by our feet. Where most of us, as Duty demands, place these fire-hardened shapes of clay, around our souls. Truncating and cutting off intuition and worse, pay homage to the false gods of progress, money, accumulation of things, power and status, all as other eye, I’s say it is so, but not you, not the best of yourself.
And so it’s our souls that pay in plunder through the surrendering of ourselves, one piece at a time, chasing temporary balms, drunken delays and flash-in-the-moment-emotional highs to be bruised by the always coming, balancing, lows.
Secrets, though, haunt, and old ‘pathway’ lines laid down directing us only one way – towards our way home, our way to a life when seen by small I’s, as children, but given, shaded and shadowed, to the ever increasing tone of that monstrous voice between our ears nudging us, at best towards purgatory and at worst an unending ‘hell’ of our own making.
The greys of our eyes dismiss and then dim from the potentially beautiful, colourful pain from our hearts. Shades and shadows, with light shines on, make the most interesting of patterns…those that pattern our very lives.
Best to bust all rules with rulers made of iron. Best to see and claim the phantom parts of ourselves, the ones we so willingly cut off for our ‘piece of the pie’, our ‘8 pieces of silver’, ‘the fast car and shiny suits of so-called success’. Hollow and Haunted.
We need mettle to settle our ‘spiritual’ debts. Those incurred through, with and for only ourselves, and have been directed by the monsters that live and thrive far, but not far enough away from our normal senses that they can’t be sensed. For our hearts can always tell, our guts know better, intuition screams go the other way, quick, run, grow now, for death haunts all our dreams, dogs all of our steps. None will escape in the end…perhaps.
We each have another part of ourselves, a double, and this Double demands your Freedom: as our doubles demand this from One and All.
It calls all to Freedom. Often through pain and our agreement to suffer, but can never be given, only claimed.
Being lost or hungry, alone or desperate to escape are no good excuses for deciding to choose to not act on purpose, for this purpose. To be free we must act on purpose and with purpose, or else get lost in the daze of our days and never find our way home.
I will find my way home. Are you coming along?
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Art by Lorenzo – Colour by Chie