Feelings On Paper

high at the beach

high rise into the laughter,

we become jesters with no punch line,

philosophers of other dimensions,

inventors to the future,

following no science when explaining the world,

spirits free and roaming,

cold air making us sweat the energy away,

racing our mind,

still at the seat,

draining the silences of it's existence,

and we stay in the paradox of our rise,

till we become one.