You can almost see it bending,The wide angles coming in,Like a net being pulled through the sea.Like a kite being pulled in the wind.You can almost see it changing,Slowing drifting by,Quickly getting darker,Before turning into night.You can almost breathe it in.And feel like a finite point of eternity,Like the sky is pointed toward you,And you are wide-open to it.You can almost imagine the back,Beyond the stars expanding.You can almost feel yourself take off,Feel the whole universe where you're standing....................................................... You can almost forget numbers,...................... While drawing pictures in the sky,........................You can almost go back the the beginning of the world.But you don't care to try.Barefoot in the grass,Strolling through and through,All these new abilities,Pondering what to do.
I was walking home from some place on campus and there was a drunk kid singing/yelling "Don't stop believin". I turned to look at him because I thought it was just about the greatest thing you could do when you're drunk and fearless, but he probably thought I was sizing him up... He complimented my backpack. (It was dark out and he probably couldn't even see it but enough to note that I was wearing one...) I complimented his singing.
As I walked away he kept on going, and I turned back around and started shouting/singing back Lea Michelle's parts. :) Oh, night.
I went for a walk down music row last night with Hayden. It was spontaneous. And it was perfect. But it made me think of the fact that I usually only equate spontaneity with havoc. And that's just not it at all. Sometimes life just wants to take a warm evening walk down a street and be quiet. And spontaneous doesn't always mean you do something loud and exciting. It just means you do whatever comes naturally.
So now I'm discovering adventures that are more quiet. I'm listening intently and hearing silent secrets spilling over the air like beauty. Floating down the street wheresoever it takes me, not compelling myself to do something to my walk, but letting my walk do something to me.
