You know
- that feeling that made you stay in the same hateful place just to make sure that your elders and children are in comfort?
You know
- that feeling that stretches your patience for the little mistakes and tilted frames on the wall? That feeling you get when time and space doesn't matter anymore and all that you know is the orgasmic present, and that is all the goddamn certainty that you'll ever need?
You know
- that feeling that reasserted your entire value system and beliefs? That feeling that bundled the cycle of life and death and rebirth in a blink of an eye, in six days of creation or a million years of evolution?
Yea, man,
- you've just spent irreplaceable minutes of your life on a rambling prose because you've got it. You've been waiting for a conclusion. You want that validation. Concerning a feeling that we can only define when broken down into objectives and minutes, into labels and things, into kisses and diamond rings, yet never definite enough. Never enough.
- That feeling that leaves brokers and soldiers and prosaic poets and kafirs staggered by the throngs in its absence?
That feeling?
Yea, man, we do. We really do.
We've got it too.
