Today's the fucking day and I daydream the possibilities. Retreating into the mystified fantasies of my mind. I can't stand this classroom. Quiet, rigid, pain stakingly boring. Kids typing on laptops in neat rows in front of a whiteboard with crusty pastel posters which attempt to alleviate the hospital, prison look of this classroom.
I can only think of the magical weekend that befalls me. Bonfires beside colossal cliffsides, precessing a vast foggy ocean, pulsing, breathing in a raspy hum. Friends gathered in the sand, dancing off their demons, drinking down their sorrow. I even smile thinking about it all.
In a few hours, half these students in their robotic trances will have a night to release their inner chaos. No authority, no priorities, and no future.
A sacred interconnectivity of the five universal elements
fires scattered across the sand, dancing with a graceful glow, chewing the wood beneath with soft crackles.
Silent gusts of omniscient air, travelling miles across the planet to kiss our sweet skin. carrying misty breezes and charred smoke
The earth under our feet, plains of pillowy sand, sinking our feet into divine comfort. the overarching cliffs with lines scratched across making columns like one megalithic temple
The breathing shore, foam caressing sand so gently
The enormous void above our heads carrying sprinkles of celestial dust
Bonfires on the beach are a cerimony of the times. A thing one could only dream of. In a few hours I'll be there.
It's hard to take this history essay seriously, when the night has so much more in store. Here in nothing more than a number to appeal to higher corporations, businesses, schools. Occupied by papers, tests, and the expectations forced upon me. how senseless these tasks are. Tonight is going to be something monumental. something that delivers magic which will be cherished for the rest of my life.
This beach party was organized by the teen prophet Kyler. A prince of starlight, gleaming with unending ambition. Born to pull others out of their ordinary cyclical trances, and into one of abundant gracefulness. Oh holy Kyler.
The man knew how to throw a proper party.