Preservation.

I was sitting beside my headphones and across from a madman. On my right, beyond the ledge lay the contents of my frame. For a moment there I spotted a glow, behind the clouds and swore that the unnatural had come to visit again, but the moon, in reminiscence of some quirky British musical comedy, sprung out and revealed itself as the source behind a few layers of oddly shaped clouds. The sound of the rain was fulfilling. it filled me with a sense of life, but I sat there, fool like, writing this. But this was only after I had felt this life that I decided to write this now. And now as I write it I am forced to notice this chain I am caught in, on finding energy, and then trying to preserve it, in words? I imagine mother nature, an imaginative manifestation of our idea of mother nature perhaps, creating this light and sound show. This show of energy, the reveal of the hand. The all in. She's got Pocket earthquakes with a tsunami kicker, and We're sitting there with a 'ka-ching' high. High indeed