Grape Juice

While dancing on the bubbles of grape juice I decided to go on a quest. Tapping keys slowly every word a small quest in my brain, neurons flaring flowing trough tunnels as deep and as vast as space.

A Great Quest lies before me, like Gandalf knocking on Bilbo’s door the time has come for me to speak. To be heard over all this noise seems impossible, but I will draw out my space for generations to gaze at in the future.

The web under the old dot COM will be great graveyard of the past. A small tree, The Tree of Yoga, held after so many years.

A mind. A mind trained and molded. A mind broken and mended.

Fragments drawn out.