“Consciousness expresses itself through creation. This world we live in is the dance of the creator. Dancers come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on. On many an occasion when I’m dancing, I’ve felt touched by something sacred. In those moments, I’ve felt my spirit soar and become one with everything that exists. I become the stars and the moon. I become the lover and the beloved. I become the victor and the vanquished. I become the master and the slave. I become the singer and the song. I become the knower and the known. I keep on dancing and then, it is the eternal dance of creation. The creator and creation merge into one wholeness of joy. I keep on dancing and dancing… and dancing, until there is only… the dance.”
– Michael Jackson
“Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping… waiting… and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir… open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us… guides us. Passion rules us all. Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love… the clarity of hatred… the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we’d know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we’d be truly dead.”
– ENCOURAGEMENT FROM MISS (X)UGAB
Open the door, that leads to the corners of the alley.
You’ll then see a cat and when she lurks around your composition – you’ll find a nervous sensation!
Be careful to charm the legs of suspense because they look too warm you through their lingering.
Every when night you go to sleep – they appear in dreams reminding you of the boy you once were.
Being very earnest to play with every living creature that came your way.
The intimacy that comforts you in the pillows and sheets gives you the indication of excited passions.
When she settles down in your desires, you become governed by the will to replay it again.
Looking down to write down more of this story – the archive of already established stories hovers your mind.
You are reminded of the effect this magic exhales upon you. Time and focus again; you find yourself, continually a part of the consequence of transmission.
She’s the one behind the magic who merely comes as the mirage of fantasy.
Everyone knows how she tastes – the fascinating lullaby that makes all children close their eyes in the midnight hours.
The composure of replay gives back the lost reason, a home that is to be remembered.
I’ve experienced this quite recent, being haunted by the familiar cat. I’ve taken a break onto social indulgence because of the heaviness of what is going on. I’ve been reminded by the focus of her obsession that there is a story that covers the mind! It’s been like a replay, but my home is no longer there, I desire to fall into the grace of a magical place!