Remembering a time when. And Play. That collection of sounds played on the soul and pushed out a reaction. Remembering a time when the soul fell into its hold. One hundred percent with it. No other options just take it and do what you want. Now is the time to react again. Soul in one with it. The normal the full the happy the lush the bass. This is it.
The foiled emotions by the impressions of another. Another idea on importance. Another perspective on reality. This causes an issue. And everything seems less important then.
In the core the heart pumps the blood into every important place. It keeps the place clean. It keeps the walls happy. You are waking up in 6 hours. But you feel the pump. You feal the beating, relentless, holding forwever in a grip of life. A happiness pulse. Something totally involuntary and present. Impersonal. Silence. It is the sound of silenece. The blood in the veins. We have replaced the world of noises with these beats and sileneces. The hum is persistent until the world sleeps and the black surrounds. Single light sources take precedent and put a ring around the eyes.
There was a time when they looked without aids. They still do. And now with the pulse of a new collection the eyes have hope and dreams. These ones push out new waves of light and being. The mind is changed. The life is pushed. The arms are open. And we grow and develop constantly. We see the world in flames and look for ways to quench the thirst for water. For ways to improve despite the problems we face. This is our mission.
The room is no longer the same. Not full of the people and pulses of hearts and mind in a light separated in time and space by darkness. This is not the same place. This is a personal place where the world has been removed. An older space where the personal is importance. This is probably the wrong world. The one not wanted. The one that deserves to be liberated. The light is only ever allowed now. Opened up. I want to hold you, laughing. That is what I want. To hold that moment in time between the darkness where the feet are suspended in action. Where the people are encompassed by the goodness of the pulse, of the air, of the experience. The pure happiness. The experience. Sharing it in one place. A non personal space. A collective space. In light between darkness. I want to hold you, laughing. Repeating like the heart, like the soul, like the things we demand must continue and push and create. It is the time between their silence that we are afforded to make a break. We are afforded this time to leave a mark. How long that lasts is up to the power of the beat and the soul. And I look at the happiness on their faces and I see the mark of another and a collective willingness to be marked. Over and over in a blissful suspension between the darkness... in the light. Watching the smoke in pure suspension. Watching the feet above the floor. The hands in the black. The faces in emotion. The teeth exposed. The finger rigid in the light. The clothes outplaced. The beat dropping. The beat expected to drop. Anticipation. Pure happiness. What we all came for. Their pure happiness. Their pure expression. Their hands outstretched in the smoke and the darkness, in the light and the darkness, in the smoke and beams of pink. Leaving a mark on us all.. leaving it and thanking us for allowing it. Then gone. Again and back and we let the mark sink in and fade like a scar on the skin. Happy to remember.