keeping moving, nothing to see here

I waver over the surfaces without resistance, I flow to and fro with limited know how and I beckon for nothing as I slip and slide through the textures divine. The art of motion is as significant as the sun. There are lowly departures of miniscule devotion, to impregnate the force of living into all, a gift that every being should embrace. A tomorrow arrives too soon and a wash of regret overcomes the ones who had fallen short of their immediacies.
To mourn the lost and neglected can detract from the needs for self reliance and a decay can spread into those who’ve come to assist the hopeless. A dreaded curse of deconstruction slices through the central experience and the death decomposes the rotations of the living. Let go, you must let go, to hang on to that which has gone will drag you into the same loathsome darkness, and that you will never be able to escape.