I cant seem to find their destination. I can feel them originating indeed, there at the source, burning. They come to visit and want to be explored. Limitations constrain them and they shape like glass. Like boiling water in a plastic cup. They melt, they intoxicate, they evaporate. Their thoughts like fumes. They blind me, they hurt me, they push me, they cut my wings and kill my flight. If only said. If only expressed. They wouldve turn into only now. They wouldve flown to the unknown. Where they flow. They transform. They transmute to only love and gratefulness to its source.