Breakfast on Change Pockets

I use the term inspired by very strongly.

I stood as man a shunned. In that, standing is hardly the word for it. Hunched. Perhaps. As if my shoulders were eating at my head from the sides. The motive could have been just, simply disgust. The brain, the cause of this mess, nothing more than a niblet for the mandibles of a creature determined to eat the sky from it's place. I'd move forward after consumption, also. No blame there. Fair IS fair after all.

"What was my place in this?"
But that's not your question, now, is it? And neither is this.
For questions answering questions should be left to philosophers, (the misunderstood in general) and those with a need for lessons.

The lessons I take are mine. To impart them without reserve upon anyone, let alone letters and words... well. I'm not sure I've the capacity or stomach. Perhaps the aforementioned jaws of life snacked on my digestive tract towards the heavens. Or is it hell? Being circular, I'm confined to ask which way is up? And who gave Newton, let alone gravity the right to decide?

It's not that my lessons are so grave as to detract. I believe maim is a suitable substitute in the limiting world of monikers. So is enlightenment. Again. All things being equal, nothings really the same after that is it? Funny things. Monikers. One letter at a time. And that's how we shall proceed.

I posed the question earlier. "What's my place in all this?"
I know. I know by realizing it's ever changing value. I liken it to the stock market regretfully. Did you catch it? Id it Catch you?

Perhaps. But you digress. "Back with me now!" is a phrase i've never understood fully. Where did I go, and where was I to begin with then?

Perhaps. This is the only answer. Was and shall always be the only answer. The beauty of it being that it's not an answer at all, but a question. And that's the question isn't it? You see, a question is by definition a limiting experience. And yet, truth even more so. To be confined by a lack of barriers. Where does the green light stop? At the green light.


The sullying of minds is a hard habit to break. Creation through destruction. Rebuilding without rebuilding. It's akin to a forest fire, only with recognition and respect for the compost.