This is the halfway point.

I have the talking stick and I scratch the next chapter into the sand.

The breakdown has begun.

The screaming and crying out into the unbroken flow of my masterminds destiny-track that is skipping beats in my head.

I am the illustrator and the orchestrator of my life and times in this, uni-visceral industrial moment.

My mind’s eye looks inside and I see, I am the one looking back at me.

So who is actually the one who is trapped?

Am I still the victim or have I finally emerged to imprison myself?

This is the orchestration of one.

I am the conductor and I am the orchestra.

I am seated in the audience and I am awaiting my show to begin.

I am nervous because I am the actor, but I am hopeful because I am the director.

I am pleased because my theater is full and there are more engagements on the way.

I want more things happening in my town and if I can convince myself to let the others know, that I am ready for the next step.

The world has stopped spinning and we are now shooting through the firmament to the end of space and time.

Welcome to the end of the game, that is nothing but a tool, lying in wait for me to build the next thing.


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