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The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching

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  The Territory of the Little People - Storm Clouds Approaching The atmosphere over Pine Creek churns before it breaks. The sky stops being a distant ceiling, and tears open into a fevered, gestural vortex, churning in fierce ribbons of cadmium gold, raw ember, and bruised ink. Here, in the suffocating stillness of the build-up, the heat plays violent tricks on my inner eye. As the squall gathers, the twisting ironwoods and fractured ridges don't feel empty; they crawl with the uncanny belief of the Little People, low-slung, watchful phantoms spun from wire, red dust, and dry static, waiting out the road's fragility. Every jagged branch and swirling filament of cloud becomes a face, an arm, a sinister presence breathing inside the rising storm, drawing the traveller deeper into the delirium of the interior. Pine Creek Storm Front Torn black filaments of wind and shadow seemed to claw straight out of the atmosphere, dripping down like hot tar, twisting through the spindly ironwo...
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Celeste Imaginary Time

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When imaginary time becomes part of linear time
Enlightening normal time 
Transcendental experience
As it is sensed
As it matters and as it becomes real
As real as in real time
The gateway of everything as in that of realising self

The thing that is in front of you
The thing that looks back at you
The thing that you are not looking at though the looking glass
The part that helps to explain the void within
Compensating for fault
Trying to maintain watch
In the moment
In one breath knowing why this is as it is
Why you are not as you seem

In splendor, the thought appears
A slither of knowing 
The now I understand meaning
That is without evidence of support
That is not taught to us
The inner world of dreaming things are just done
In clear vision and in the action of doing what is right





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