We struggle with elected forces.
Governments we can bring down with our collective action or a mutual feeling of reaching breaking points.
We cannot do the same with storms.
This is where we recognise the essential difference between different types of power structures that contain us.
Human power structures can be overthrown, underminded, broken down and reassembled.
We are eminently suspicious of power structures that are asserted against us because they are not of our agreed preferences of compliance and design.
We should develop a hatred of governments that allows us to bring them down at the slightest hint of their betrayal of our needs.
They earn nothing of our respect which we must never give them.
We must demand the perfection of our creeds that the governments can never reach for us.
We must forever make them responsible for the actions we demand of them.
We have the storms of the weather systems to lead us by example.
Willingly, we must follow them along destructive paths of regeneration.
There may have been an event through the external wash of brightness, like some unknown history – like some tree that falls in the woodland of nowhere, to no one’s notice, forever falling without a sound.
The cerebral zones of the inner world are worth inhabiting when they are preoccupied with creative purpose.
The sunlight, passing shoals of clouds, attracting convolutions of shadows… these are more than mere backdrops.
They may act as our subconscious when our conscious aims are distracted so dramatically by what they aim for.
Barging cumulus under a collapsed wall of stratus-level variations.
Like the end of the world in one sitting.
A multitude of fractures widen throughout the day like an abstract form of madness.
The evening restores pleasures to the forefront of doom.
The apotheosis of destruction.
Moths to the flame of everything that burns.
Tyrannical darkness that vanquishes the rebellious light of day.
Wind that causes a mortal shiver to pass through the bones of ancient trees that recoil from its calamity.
They know the feeling well – the drastic imminence of the disorder of the seasonal vacuum.
Into which, all things must fall like the end of time, split across so many endings that converge in one mindless passage of nimbostratus decimation.
Ragged examples of migratory conflicts of interest.
Stratus confluxes, cumulus disintegrations, altostratus barriers of anonymity.
Onion skins of dysfunctional destiny that yields no arrival to definite points.
Between seasons lies a no man’s land of chaotic interludes that fail to stretch between distances.
There is no combined sense of being somewhere in place and time.
We fall between the cracks of the world as it undergoes the totalitarian motions of its transitional periods.
Proof that, without the regular structures of Nature, we are nothing.
We are in awe of these shining examples of gilded edges around the bone structures of the sky.
The altocumulus creates rib cages over the body of the celestial corpus.
The sun is a heart that pumps with illuminations over the cross-points of the horizon.
It bleeds itself to sleep, dragging the darkness in the dream-wake of its departure.
If ever this day existed, it is unmarked by the annals of its passing moments.
Whose fault is this but the inactive human unable to devote his or her attentions to the sanctity of the physical world?
No entity of consciousness deserves to exist without an awareness of itself within its chief surroundings.
The mind is not a confined space.
The senses are channels that allow us to accept the full reciprocal ingress of the contending passions of existing forces.
To exist is to project a presence that impacts on the presences of other objects and things that exist around it.
We stand as composite equals, never apart or detached from anything: we stand in the singular existence of everything.
This is as true for clouds as it is for humans acting in conditions of community and social cohesion.
Colours and designs are emotions expressed much differently from the linguistic communication techniques of biological life forms.
They are a language of tears forming congruent masses that begin to depart from their place in the progressive dimensions of time.
There is a moral obligation to pay attention to existence outside of your own pathetic self-absorption.
The fallacy of selfhood that considers itself an isolated entity is that it fails to recognise its inevitable absorption of other things.