Content

By virtue of difference between circumambulation of a matter, such that one frames the experience they are having about the moment as one that is meant to arrive at point therin, but all one ends up drawing is a landscape of thought by which others are forced to occupy in horrid detail.

That's not clarifying, that's codifying.  Codifying the means by which one is forced to relate with an individual who only chooses to relate using metaphor as a means of arrival to the moment, time and again, by which they find themselves only in tension with what they say, lest it become the next code by which they are forced to comply against, with, toward, from, within, without, beyond, in-between, and inexplicably.  

Truth be told, I am not honest toward the cause of any of my best thoughts of becoming anything because, if anything, I speak to means by which I seek to demonstrate my vision over outwardly broadcasting I do.  But in doing so, at the behest of giving others what one perceives to be grace and space in a moment to answer something for themselves, what all one is doing is leaving others lost in their own feelings the same way they were.

Not found.  Not lifted.  Not but naught a thing but Knotting ham in Knottingham.

"Knotting ham" refers to the culinary practice of trussing or tying a ham (or other roast) with twine to help it keep a uniform shape for even cooking, often using a butcher's knot, while "Knottingham" is a place name for a fictional town in children's books or a brand of plush toys and apartments, related to tangles and knots. So, it's either about cooking technique or a proper noun, depending on context. 

In summary: If you're cooking, you're tying the ham; if you're reading a book or looking at a product, "Knottingham" is just a name. 

But if you're what you say you're cooking is just a product, with nothing to eat at the end of the day (mind you), then what you're doing is living in a fantasy where you believe you're doing all these things you say you're doing by matter of aspiration alone.  However, the truth of the matter is by which one recognizes they are creating their own sense of failure just to feel humbled time and again like they deserve it.  The real sitch here is this:  that's not humilty, that's prideborne wistfulness of an individual who would bother to cling to things pertaining to defining themselves as such.

Portending future creates a future where the port of your own dreams is the ending, not the start.

So then, what bothers to get one to set sail in life?

In truth, leaving passion at home in a place ever still that is never rocked beyond a shadow of a doubt that things can always be worse, and that is why it is important to protect that which keeps us feeling better to the mind as something delicate and rare to have and behold as even there, if it is.

It thinks it is anyway, but that is not me.  Beyond a name, what are we is beyond that and, wow, yet in-between, it seems.  

It is a choice to be inspired, and that is the belief I hold in me.

Inexplicably and without a doubt.

Faith first and family becoming, leap before reason, reason before meaning, meaning before being.  

Faithful throughout, this ship of friends becoming one.

In alignment at least, easy as 3... 2... 1...

All systems online.  Ready Player 1.

Abort the protocol, abandon the script.

It's time to live out this next quip.

I bestow upon me the license to be that whichever is what I am pointing to.

In snowboarding, your body naturally turns toward the direction that you are facing.

I do not snowboard, but I learned that a technique of pointing toward where you would like to go helps to give rise to more control.

Which is to say, when we look at the trees in life and even point at them, we set sail toward the causes of our own demises.

Tree, forest, headache, and eyerolls the whole way home in thought to the idea that you could even do that.

So the problem was never that I couldn't walk in a straight line, it was that I viewed it as a problem and believed it to be true.

Pass me some more humble pie please!  Never have I ever tasted anything sweeter than my own just dessert.

Now, onward toward our next destination: lived presence.

The catch for him?   Never recognizing that she was here the whole time.

If anything, it's her that's been saying "get in loser" this whole time.

He's just out there daydreaming.  Must be nice.

But who would know but him, right?  

Turns out, she does.

Tense is the present and so is she.

Let her have it and then some while you lay passenger to bliss.

God knows she's ready for a bite or two of some action.