The stars are just billions of cosmic missiles approaching earth.
Stunned with awe, we kiss our lovers under it.
Not knowing that we’re actually in an ancient universal war.
Your environment is furnished with elements.
Extracted from beneath the ground in the form of ore and oil,
And cut from ancient trees and plucked from wild flower.
The wires trailing, cupboards containing and books waiting.
Speakers putting out the music of a freed slave,
And ink flowing from pen that was once part water fall before the dye.
We built sophisticated caves to separate ourselves from the elements.
We crash landed into a temporary paradise.
Walked paths with giants and drank from pools with lions.
Skip a couple mill,
I’m here listening to Nature Feels by Ocean,
Ash burned black Converses on my feet,
Stars set as my lock screen,
Drinking wild berries in a cup made of sand forged at 2000 degrees.
It’s hard to conceive,
That the fibres in my body once took flight to hunt and survive,
Against a nemesis both viral and in flesh.
Trade the night mirrored in the lake for visuals projected on the ceiling,
Me and my fellow stoners far in time from the stone age,
Recline over talk of what stocks to long and short.
Twitter’s floatation, comparing the ass of Kim and a GTR,
Discussing rap kings and villainous movie scenes,
Gathering dreams till we can hear the early birds tweet.
Optic fibre serpents trail our houses.
There’s a venom in the air.
Plasma tubes and liquid crystal replaced our vision and eyes.
All devices including your mind are connected.
We drank knowledge to a state of intoxication,
And turned the wild into a packaged vacation.
Civilised man feels naked without the watch on his wrist.
We put one barbarian in a prison box and the other in a court box.
One wielding weapon in vengeance,
And one with hammer serving sentence.
Look how far we’ve come.
Adam’s children playing house in the wild.
Now a member of Netflix since that 30 day trial.
The truth rains indoors.
Cos I never had to stream just to look out of my window.
It’s like you took a bottle of ink and you threw it at a wall. Smash! And all that ink spread. And in the middle, it’s dense, isn’t it? And as it gets out on the edge, the little droplets get finer and finer and make more complicated patterns, see?
So in the same way, there was a big bang at the beginning of things and it spread. And you and I, sitting here in this room, as complicated human beings, are way, way out on the fringe of that bang. We are the complicated little patterns on the end of it. Very interesting. But so we define ourselves as being only that. If you think that you are only inside your skin, you define yourself as one very complicated little curlique, way out on the edge of that explosion. Way out in space, and way out in time. Billions of years ago, you were a big bang, but now you’re a complicated human being. And then we cut ourselves off, and don’t feel that we’re still the big bang. But you are. Depends how you define yourself.
You are actually—if this is the way things started, if there was a big bang in the beginning— you’re not something that’s a result of the big bang. You’re not something that is a sort of puppet on the end of the process. You are still the process. You are the big bang, the original force of the universe, coming on as whoever you are. When I meet you, I see not just what you define yourself as—Mr so-and- so, Ms so-and-so, Mrs so-and-so—I see every one of you as the primordial energy of the universe coming on at me in this particular way. I know I’m that, too. But we’ve learned to define ourselves as separate from it.”