My day.
Truly it never,
starts.
For,
as I wake,
I sit.
I think.
I exist.
I find,
in time I simply do,
nothing.
An,
intense nothing.
This
which purifies one's energetic existence.
This,
which alters the void,
as such,
becomes absent the ability to truly be deemed,
empty.
Oh,
the constant creation within such.
Oh,
the sparks of inspiration.
Oh,
wisdom,
be you formed,
whilst within this,
nothing?
Be you,
tethered deeply,
to this constant lightning?
This,
which forever illuminates.
Forever,
tethered deeply to showing,
the seeker,
he's way.
For,
such becomes,
he's everyday.
Oh,
seeker.
be not,
blinded by sight.
Not,
made deaf,
whilst attempting to hear,
light.
Oh,
seeker,
you need only,
write...
©yungb123
Y