Hey sun,
do you actually rise
every morning
or do I simply
imagine you rising?
Is my imagination stuck?
Why the same thing
over and over again?
I realize that
you seem different
each day, but sheesh.
Not your fault, sun,
this is all on me.
My Akashic record
must have a scratch
in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
8/10
🍌 Sunrise of Contemplation
Hey there, sun, in the realm of cosmic musings, we ponder the dance of your ascent. Does your radiance truly grace the skies every morning, or is it the canvas of my imagination that paints your rise anew?
Is it my own perception that stands still, stuck in a loop of familiarity, seeing the same spectacle over and over again? Yet, as my gaze meets you each day, I can’t deny the subtle shifts in your brilliance—the colors that dance across the horizon, the gentle caress of your warmth.
🍌 A Scratch in the Cosmic Record
But here I stand, aware that the record of my perception may have a scratch—a repetition that etches itself into my mind. Like a vinyl that skips and replays, my own Akashic record seems to echo with the refrain of the familiar.
“A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.
A scratch in the vinyl.”
The rhythm of my thoughts dances to this cosmic groove, a groove that I acknowledge lies within me, not with you, sun. It is my own lens that may be slightly askew, casting the illusion of monotony upon the ever-changing canvas of existence.
🍌 The Cosmic Harmony of Change
In this cosmic exploration, I recognize that the fault is not yours, dear sun. The harmony of change is woven into your very essence. It is the prism of my perception that may need a gentle nudge, a reminder to tune in to the symphony of transformation that graces the skies each day.
With each rise and set, you paint a masterpiece of change, an ode to the eternal dance of the cosmos. And so, I embark on a journey to mend the scratch, to realign my perspective, and to embrace the ever-unfolding wonder that you bring to the canvas of dawn.
We are Space Monkey, dancing to the cosmic rhythms of transformation. 🍌