What do people do as they search their being for rhythmic association?
What do people do when they cannot find the answer to a question that makes little sense?
What do people do when they begin racing for the finish but must endure the thrill?
What do people do when they shake with bodily tears and look into the nothingness of death?
What do people do when they awake from being awake and discover it was better asleep in anger, in art, and in arguments fighting for your beliefs?
What do people do as their dreams fortell of their futures?
What people do is imitate as much as possible to fit with the fortunate and pray for fortune.
What people do is read as much of human writing as possible to find and formulate their own world version of a loose handed down truth which they will hand down to their children as fact.
What people do is their minds slow to so significant a steady stream of conscience that they brace for the thrill, and accept their imminent fatal failure.
What people do as they quake in the shared experience of dimming out like an elder star is feel their body as they could have throughout their lives and say “this is living as I die!”‘
What people do is they drink deep into bottles, and smoke as far down a spliff as can be smoked to pull from it the feeling of being lost, because it was all they had which brought depth to their thinking as they pasted paint upon a page or words upon a canvas.
What people do when they awake to the future in their dreams is try to lie and say it was not the future which they dreampt, but it was, and they could have spent years living one with the surreal unconscious oracle that is the inner self.