you mock me for my beliefs, then tell me you believe.each time you let go, the freedom is illusive.
and so, you can't help but to try again.
experience itself is the truest teacher.
every time an end, and you're coming back into this body.
there is no solid ground with us.
that is the nature of this, always flowing, always moving.
running for so long, and for what, from that which cannot be escaped.
distraction only works for so long.
what to do, when none of this feels real.
pushing against what is possible to express.
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