songs of the drummers

this is a decompression session still have I not learned the lesson but feel the need, to make this confession under oppression. choices, choices, with too many voices tearing me apart, plans for this place and that place I yearn for nothing but that sacred space of lush rainforest and beaches, songs of the drummers, mind body connected to something greater, all the while career is something safer. safer from what? i remember that song of the desert when all the troubles could vanish like this, so when did the eskimos go capitalist?

when opportunity calls, why do i perceive them as walls, shifting perspective moving to subjective, liberating entrapment.  but schooling awaits, an incubator of ideas and concepts, the vehicle to bring me to the land of the fabled carrot stick state. two step to the platform, shoes hesitant, moving swifter now, but not before the Maldives.

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urbaneskimo

I'm fascinated with people, their stories, where they're coming from and where they're headed. Met many, and now it's time to write my own. follow the footprint.

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