HARK AWAREWOLF SINGS
Let’s not be candid in our talk of “Enlightenment” or “getting it.” For I have a friend, weary in spirit, suffering bouts of omniscient grooviness from which he has no control. Touched by an angel at an early age, my friend revisits his malady at each full moon: he is the Awarewolf, painfully transforming from man into pure energy beneath the pale moon light, simultaneously aware of everything, everywhere: A weeping Internet of the Spirit tragically lacking divine capacity to order, to ingest, to fathom, to search itself as “I or Everything?”: He is drunken, paralyzed, electrified by full-spectrum knowledge and stimulation; becoming one with the electric chair: His nails turn to prismatic laser, his hair doth shine like a color changing Christmas tree: uber-fiber optically, as light rips from his back, beginning to vibrate so furiously, humming like a proton-pack, he shines a light, from inside-out, into being just as the ether surrounds. For every full moon, he retreats to the 5th floor of the Sunsphere, the sole attendee to his malady’s reception, dancing harder, and harder, until electrolytes electrify, and light he becomes, self-contained by his own reflection, finding truly for himself, “a place in the sun.”
