More dribble from my brain

I scribbled this on a cocktail napkin the other day. The creative juices were flowing. Let's just say I was....inspired.

The gentle sashaying of wheat fields golden, scampering about in
the liquid warmth of vibrant Mother Earth's caressing
arms, the scent of dew-graced petals dancing around my
unshackled senses. Too much passion for some is a
downfall. For others, it is a welcome exile from
mundane, meaningless ritual, feeling utterly abandoned
singularity, yet simultaneously basking in the
knowledge of zen that most will never be lucky enough
to face.

As we all search for meaning within this
carbon-stamped, processed confection, restrain the
dappled, enigmatic, defined seeds we sow from within
ourselves from the fate of being ground into
homogenous texture.

I am in ecstasy, but I cry nonetheless, for I alone am
here, without another marred by the passion that I
feel for the acute petals of the crimson poinsettia,
the cascading sparkle of the frozen aquatic
masterpiece that winks at me outside my window, the
reassuring, dampened sweet whisper of the mid-July
evening enveloping all my senses, saturating them in
an endless, insatiable happiness.

I am here crying alone, yet not shedding lonely tears,
for this is my Society. And in my Society, intricacy
in simplicity is the greatest beauty of all. ---AGM