Mason Jars

I seek a creative outlet in the midst of chaos every evening. As I label my fears and tuck them away in bins harvested over the years, it dawns on me that I can disambiguate the cells in my being by merely looking outside the box and embracing the entire story. My new job as a zealot encourages me to go back and act as my own advocate instead of sitting on top of another irrelevant revolution. I tip toe, hold on to my creativity hiding it under the blanket, catalyzing each thought that swiftly comes to my mind. "Free" time now suffers from the buggy whip syndrome with heart racing to fight the hopelessly outmoded concept of self realization. This is the foundation of my space based mapping as I count every minute that I am able to sustain this new existence underneath the throws of ground truth. Good thought leaders would say this is the very essence of the ontology of endurance under pressure, the pressure to exist in my exhaustive avatar. They, who know no fault, would proclaim I create my own signature rather than suffocate under the compact, long, low eccentricity of my own fingerprints. Whether or not I will follow their intelligently observed and fact based guidance is an enigma in and of itself. My evening is scale and position agnostic. It used to be the sole owner of its destiny, however is now rapidly becoming just another out on the street commodity that can be capitalized for profit. It has lost its unique, exquisite (and expensive) capability of knowledge discovery and activity analytic. 

 

Two dollars 99 cents each, wide mouthed and handle less, highlighting the chapters of my day, begins to carve out it's destiny as the thoughtfully purchased Michaels water jewels and artificial flowers enter the three dimensional dynamic system of formless and disordered state of matter. Water jewels glitter through one of the jars seeking permission to prevail, inviting the flower to share its domain. Entangled battery operated lights illuminate it's way into another as the last one entertains itself, pixilated with glow in the dark painted dots, teasing and worrying with impish laughter. 

Tonight is far more even tempered than usual even though I already encountered my share of yellow bile before sunset. As I begin to drift into the inaudible expanse, I harbor the imponderable shape of zest without raising an alarm in the currently unruffled room.