When ideas flow, mutate, and flash with a thousand colors. When the world’s fascinations and terrors cannot hold me close, but challenge me to grab the illusion, the brass ring. It is free passage to skim troubles lightly, and allow the part of me I love best to play and inhabit magic. It's a part that never lasts long but is always memorable. It protects me, and gives me a necessary break from a world of pressure and hatred.
Those times find me here, but not present. Mornings in bed. Driving a distance. Walking city streets. Sitting alone in a campground.
It's of great importance that this time, this advantage, not be destroyed. Not be medicated. Not to be catagorized, or boxed. Running a thin line, not in the sand, but in the air. It twists and turns as it's fragmentation allows freedom of expression. Expression of fear, melancholy, joy. Emotion is irrelevant. Or comletely relevant. The crossing the line defining creation is indistinct – yet the turning back difficult.
It is Illumine. To light up, or brighten. Enlightenment.