The Usual Panoply

The usual panoply of unforeseen complications within early morning options defy single choice alternatives and lay the groundwork for high rolling stability in a thickened flux of potential, sort of like oatmeal. I take notes on the harmonic chords tied to varied flow of transition (musings to my ears) as everything remains different from everything else, thus keeping in line with the expanding sphere of influent peripheries. I am cautiously gung-ho free falling into each and every momentary hesitation, wearing the clouds of my dreams as if they were the ocean (full of oatmeal, perhaps), while the light of fulfillment (feeling my oats) wears the very air breathed and keeps me in the relaxed suspense of surface tension face off (use your napkin). I turn my other cheeks and sit to write, attempting to discern when potential segues into reality, but since the only perspective held within the ever unsure grip of subjective actuality is this very moment, the view is somewhat vague for all the lush undergrowth that hides the trees which would otherwise be plainly keeping me from seeing the forest that surely used to be out there, somewhere, before progress bulldozed it down for a shopping mall that has a very good price on oatmeal.

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