Sept 29, 2013
It is Autumn in Boone. As this valley begins to rust and wither, as the harvests are made and the wind begins to wail, as the malls and courtyards fill with the multicolored sea of leaves a-turned crimson and gold, I dream of endings and new beginnings. I dream of a metropolis of steel and clay, of ancient roads strewn with the dust of ages, of strange solitude in a quiet desert, and a rose that must find its beloved before the journey is done. There is a song in the air; transformation, let it be, transformation.
psychedelic coffee house
Symbolic representation of experiencing the Godhead.
The Science of Lucid Dreaming