Let me remind you who you truly are. You are an alchemist, turning all your wounds into fluidic light.
A temporary expression of human density, carved from fractals of kaleidoscopic light and fine woven gold. You are a mutant, an immortal, holistic vigilante.
Comprised of the stuff of stars and carrying the chic, worldly exuberance of important pain.
You heal through mischief and the fabrication of dreams.
You are a seance at the Madonna Inn.
You are a dictionary of nonsense words and a tapestry of surrealist mythical creatures.
Chorales of angels chant your name while you sleep.
You have secret allies behind the veil.
They laugh at all your jokes and clap for all your mistakes.
Your world is opening up.
You are blooming and all of matter is calibrating in your favor.
You are a spectacular miracle, the most imperfectly perfect version of yourself to exist in all of time and all of space. You are the symbiotic intimacy of all moments, sounds and colors, vividly experiencing themselves.
Your avatar is secondary to the cosmic, magnetic pull you carry.
You are full of wonder, High on hope, hungry for the infinite, and it is looking for you.
The giggles you make in rooms you leave behind, stay and linger and bounce across the walls like golden comets.
You are the gasping, delightful shock and abandon of a first orgasm.
You are the medium of the in-between, the mouth piece for the stars.
You are a paradoxical mythology, of gods and monsters and angels and loss. You are a festival of chaos and a church of bliss.