Wisdom-Is-Visceral

Fire Kindling, fuel, wood, fake, real, sets the environment, cozy, warm, majestic The flames flickering all colors of passion red connected to orange orange to yellow They dance, the flames, they seem to enjoy it Suddenly, you're drawn in You want to be with them Closer... closer... Careful. Get too close, you might get burned.

Who Understands Clouds, maybe; music, maybe not. Fire or ice, who can decide? Light, probably as much as is impossible Darkness, a possibility. How much space, if it can be measured? What emotions, do you think? Birds and humans combined Claws and leathery wings A great serpent, who eats souls, Or random repetition cycling A state of complete nirvana Pleasures and evil deeds aplenty. No earthly being can fathom supposedly So what is truth and what is farce?

Something The wind roaring, the landscape rushing by, like an artist's palette in a maelstrom on air. Reaching a certain point where you don't matter everything has no matter the only thing that does is the feeling! The tranquility, the solidarity, the rush, the adrenaline, the sound... sweet, loud, course. Every feeling sharpened because if you're not ready, You will die.