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Consciousness Park
9 August, 2008
Author: Puppet

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Fireworks of photosynthesis-laid-dormant claw at the brooding heavens.
A plethora of still and static beasts tremble, whisper, hush, whisper, and hush again, lulling me into a soft calm.
The phantoms of an earlier year gaze serenely across the landscape, and—sped up—evolve into manifestations of old age.
Electric pen-points cascade across my writing arm, tickling my psyche and reminding me what it means to be functional.
Paralleled with a green deadened by twilight, my life is a light shining across an otherwise mysterious steppes.

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