5d • General discussion
Where the Clouds are Born
I fell asleep inside a storm and woke up where the clouds are born.
Without a form of function, objects subjects, nameless oneness.
The summit and the abyss became one in the same
so what is the difference in the picture's I paint
And the painters is existence in my physical frame.
Seeing from a frameless existence when you live on spiritual planes.
With a brain that’s so gifted with this lyrical game.
Fictitious scriptures get written to rhythm for you to taste.
The contradictions they come from such a holistic place.
Everybody is like delicious
but I’m like wait a minute
Because ain’t nobody really listening when the silence become so deafening
And the cacophony of thoughts in me is brought to its final reckoning
No more beckoning to the self-professed professor’s lecturing
It’s time to see for self what’s reflecting in this mirror, inner questioning.
The answer’s lie beneath the disguise as of all of our identities
We’re just entities without a form so welcome to where the clouds are born
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Where the Clouds are Born
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