The goal is a hundred, but I want less. Less of what others desire, and more of what I require. One percent of the human condition that only the rare, wounded and gifted experience; and even for them – only in the safety of their dreams. A crude and fantastic earthly existence, where flesh is indistinguishable from energy and thought; yours and mine. The final mile of space and existence; void of time and other un-worldly expectations set upon us by the other ninety-nine percent.
I want the one percent I’m never supposed to know, let alone ask for or dare have. I desire one percent of the time, impossible, all the time. A life of my choosing and manifestation where I lead with my heart and breathe slowly within storms and battles so fierce – civilizations would cease to be when they finally come to rest. And yet, here I remain, more glorious than ever amidst all the devastation that befalls me.
For those that desire the same, I invite you to my fire of illusion. My one percent.