A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.



Existence appears as a very peculiar condition. 

There seems to be no such thing as separation.  

Life forms fit together like metacarpals in a universal body.

Human babies are extensions of their parents.

The very idea of separateness seems irrational. 

Unknown power must reside within imagination itself. 

Anything that may be conceived by the mind can become real. 

Mankind  invents new ways of alienating itself.   

Humanity remains unique to this solar system.  

Perhaps our destiny will be to create separateness.

Every star of this galaxy might spawn its own form of life.

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