Masquerades

A consciousness exists as such that oft times we can hear magnitudes and spectrums without single touch. Voices crest a thousand words each full with meaning and carried abruptly across an urban landscape. From white smoked jasmine scents moving through Gotham's crypt into sobered hamlets uphill nestled in still places against turbulent winds blurred-- the sounds of the world are your backdrop to a dialect fully recalled, a mix of many universes bundled into what is heard. And whilst experienced auditory stimulants-- listen not only to words but to inflictions, reflections, and inflections, but even the minor intonations that send chills bejeweled with a tenderness beneath. The passing of day has truly been something strange-- began driven and aggressive, like forced against a wall by predator’s mouth heaving, rendering me a meditative livewire wandering the wet streets electric-- and then, unexpected culminating with something transcendent to the ear, chronicles deposited as if rare gems decorated across heart, held closely till it is heard again-- voices transfused into inspiring masquerades of being.