Beyond the Carnival

I think about so many things everyday. Doesn't everybody? Some things are like a carrousel: cyclical, silly and intranscendent. Even if I sit on the majestic white unicorn, it'll never get me anywhere. Other thoughts feel profound to me and I think "I need to write this down, make it stick." I rarely do. When I finally meet with the written word, past contemplations seem to have evaporated away. Memory is a feebleminded fellow in my vessel.

Is the thought that sticks to art the one that bears transcendence? Maybe "I" don't want to be transcendent. Maybe only humanity is capable thereof. What's in a name anyway, right!? *laugh* And yet, in my daily carnival of notions, I find myself at the center of a mad universe in chaotic convulsions within an apparently never ending stream of being. You see, the world looks different from the deserts outside the carny walls. The sky seems suddenly still while the revolutions beneath my feet remain undeniable.