Roaming the infinite cosmos.

I like to think. Without any stimulus. Other  than what pops into my mind. Out of the blue. Out of nowhere. Not having a clue. Of what’s to come. Exactly what I’m doing now.  I have no hidden agenda. No particular thought stream. I’ll go on automatic pilot. Doesn’t matter whether I head east or west. Up or down. Merely going along. For the ride.  Maybe I’ll freeze. And stay in one place.  No. No. That won’t happen. I’m always on the move. Never stopped. In 83 years, and counting. Even when I sleep. I’m on the move.  Pretending sleep. But still knowing. That I’m alive. And about to wake. In another time.  In another place. In the infinite cosmos. --Jim