Topic: Curiosity

[runningstream]

I often observed how differing values dictated vision,
How lack of empathy gives rise to facets of selfishness,
How when vision spoken, hypocritical *(un)truth become reversed and believed to be viewed upon the other,
Specifically as it said (let he who is free from sin throw the first stone),
As a 'central' tenet of truth , impossible who is wrongful
In the first instance of communication seeking to be right in the second.


There was a time of pondering before action, then realisation between them.


The phrase, "those who forget history are doomed to relive it" speaks to *within 'it' which consumes time.


Directions cannot then be separate from the emotions
And decisions of livelihood .


One cannot be separate from 'it, without or within , where one has not changed and chosen , to no longer throw stones .

[runningstream]

An unusual day yesterday as many have been,
Where dreams come into reality , where realities are non separate.
It started in a dream which continued awake, I saw the food , the people the place ,
So when I woke , I went to the place , ordered the food (asking of the ingredients specifically which seemed unusual (chicken and cheese omelet).
Then waited.
The people then appeared, I spoke to an old man who sat down , who had had a stroke.


He looked different somehow , he told me of his adventures in life, which were bold and large and broad.


Then the television spoke about strokes when it was switched on,
And the other guy from the dream appeared immediately too .


Its this wedge , of listening , which seeks to intervene , sweep up in wings , reveal and link *'breathe' into.


Another day, where contact seeks to give way from selfishness , to lend a hand.

[runningstream]

I speak of the comings and goings now,
From a dream mountain .


Where the fallen pieces of forest currently transmogrify the landscape , while nourishing what's beneath pressing up.


There's clouds often , exposed portions in other landscapes can quickly give exposure which is taxing upon a journey.


This dream however , is restful producing dreamlike respite.


Gives no rush for survival , other than the seasonal chores , and provides what is required substantially along with the amount of staple requirements .


Whilst there , among the tall tea pine , a segment open sky.
The stones exposed , a dreamer looking down upon the world , contentedly yet worrisomely.


As what's past , comes to be , as what has not yet come , arrives arrivingly.

[runningstream]

I was sitting upon a small boat , making a noise which was almost like an inward whistle ,
Where the bird sang the tune back, in a much sweeter key.


I spoke the song aloud , some thought it was not correct ,
Some spoke the song back in reverse,
Others claimed it themselves, shunting the inward whistle aside , trying claiming the light.


Some songs went forward , others back, I heard some singing and whistled some back .


With an eye on the future , an eye upon the past , I watched comings and goings from the mountains peace , as wandering back .

[runningstream]

What I've sang aloud with reason ,
I've sang within of place, seeing the comings and goings from a dream mountain .
Those dreams through time, appearances made , by investigating eyes.


When looking upon stories of transmogrification , or the likes of such forestly dream, its the past concern recently liye often unseen.


Where a man lay of clay upon an earthly dream,
As they breathed and breathed, yet lifeless it seemed.


That was what was beneath the tale, of olden brothers , of wilderness fails.


A young boy placed his ear to a sea shell, listening to the sound,
The magical tales unfurled as the shells edge did too revealed.
Those between dreams and dreamers, intently listening well,
Revealing a way , the ground damp , peering at the sliver of light,
Down at the brothers, sisters , others ,
Breathing , breathing , my foggy breath fills the air.
Listen to my voice, although I came down the mountain to see you , I will go back up .


You may enter the fog of my breath should you wish , yet listen in test.


I am a simple dreamer , when I breath the song from the earth , I open the view.
You may not bring what it is hidden in your left hand, place the club at the door.


When entering, there is nothing left of sin , and where feet stand firm , opening up , those who waited I saw.


I'll go back to them completely , when its done, be sure