Close my eyes…so as not to be distracted by the last word that I wrote…whether or not I mis-wrote or not, the point is that I’m doing my best to invoke the true expression of the moment, the true manifestation of the now. I feel a burden to carry, being this task of expressing the current moment in truth. With the youth being so boldly mind controlled, they haven’t got much hope of ever seeing the truth in type and font for much longer. The Most High has blessed me with ten working fingers and a mind for linguistics. Statistics confound me and but the broad picture is where my mind eclipses mainstream propaganda and mystification. My soul’s elation is in the Most High. Open my eyes.

Close my eyes. Symphonies are people, music is the language and the topic is whatever it is. This moment sits here with me until the next one moves in and takes it’s place. Hello, new friend, how do you do today? A breath. A sigh. Let it go man, it’s not even worth holding on any more, you haven’t been holding it anyways. Realizations, salutations, masturbation ..all the same. Lift it up or bury it, it will resurrect with tomorrow’s sun. It will pour down with the following day’s mid afternoon rain. It will grow wings and fly away, and a feather will be shed mid take-off and float gently down and rest in a puddle and an old woman will smile, creases in the corners of her mouth that speak of miles of trials. Is it worthwhile? Is it not? Is the distance a bullet travels worth the time it takes to hear a gunshot? Did you really ever hear it? Depending on whatever, whether clever severs tethers from their fetters or whether nonsense is worth reciting, now you’re finding out that which is all those things you feel…just be glad to be here…mind and soul and fingers tapping plastic keys. Far from there, far from fear. Shake your spear and raise your voice if you must. Targets like things are vague and unnamed whereas I am nothing but the breeze moving through all of these things that be what they are here and now. What does that make “me?” What does that make “me” think of “you?” I don’t really think much of anything if I must tell the truth. Open my eyes.

Close my eyes. The grace of the Source has enamored me in it’s tranquil, shimmering “is-ness”. A knight, none too subtly so, shouldering a load mere mortals will never truly comprehend. The howl of the dog next door carries on the hemorrhaging newness of the autumn wind and shakes me from my infantile state of sublime cosmic consciousness and rattles me back down to third dimensional reality. Words like revolutions demand a reaction, but over-tapping that demand brings weakening reactions to the satisfactions of the Man, whoever he and all of his kind may be. Bring the self-realized inner revolution and think not of the fact that it is the only revolution that means anything. Open my eyes.

Close my eyes. Love always remains…whether that be in this form or that, whether this reality knows or sees it or whether it transmutes these current laws of physics and travels to regions of the multiverse that none will experience, nothing is going to change. Love always remains. Light always reflects the love that is always there. Darkness is an illusion of the third dimension. Open my eyes.


This is a writing exercise that I do. It helps me to turn off self-censoring and blocks out visual distractions. As I start writing, I close my eyes. I type this and continue to freewrite until I can’t bear it anymore, then I type “open my eyes” and stop. I’ve gone back and corrected the typos just to make it more reader friendly. Try it for yourself! -Josephus


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