Slightly Intoxicated, However...

I am
Cascading moments of saturated
Sound, and memory.
Balk at the extreme,
I look to flowing fields of something growing.
Light bends in a prism to become
Color all over.
That is
The feeling
When a syncopated rhythm
Finds my hands and feet.
The first of two loves found again.
Whether it be a lazy melody
Or a crashing assemblage,
Being lost in the music is
All I really need.
People come and go.
Taxes are paid,
Rent is due.
There are groceries to buy.
Priority
Is within the spirit.
And the spirit is a wandering child.
Let it wander forever unending.
I feel the fibers of my being come apart
From sensory perception.
I feel...
Something without a name.
The moment we attach words to a thing
It is defined.
Let us revel in this ambiguity.
Let us feel, rather than define,
The open rhythm of such display.
I couldn't debase it with words.
Long winded and trying,
But the impression won me first.
So I will go to quiet depths.
I will understand my place.
I must focus all my cause
Towards a thing of belief.
Because loving is giving.
I shall give to everything I create.