Stumble so, upon the scene of senses and the associated wonder of extrasensory sensations.

The intake of sight and sounds and stench and so on, and how within all that, there seems to be more. So much more. And though there may be those who aim to break down the explanations in terms of neurons or theology, the unmistakable urge to incite more from what our organic composition consumes seems to be little short of universal.

As far as humankind seems to be concerned. Other beings, many unmet as of yet, might find our primitive five and adjunct concoctions of meaning derived thereafter as laughably unevolved.  Which in my very sapien sort of blind defiance allows me to wonder whether too much evolution does us dirty. But I cannot grow too concerned about sentience unacquainted, though I know I and many others always end up with such thoughts in a certain wave of regularity.

My own eyes are less than prime, with the fear that fading will never cease its relenting just shy of ever present. My ears have taken a beating and still I shall expect more and more of them, despite the abuse self-inflicted from adolescence up to and beyond this modern day. And within all that resides one of the dreads I’d list top ten, that some day all such sensation will fade. That the ultimate abyss will commandeer all the remains of the ego based sensation I have stake claim upon in this particular timeline. And worse that the final fade, I fear even further the loss while still trapped in this biological vessel. Blind and deaf and numb while the reprieve of mortality still sails in from off-shore.

All that, of course, the arrogance of assumption that my own identity has any sort of lasting effect. The fruitless chase of nostalgia reperceived while the ignorance of now and onward grows uncontained. The addiction to trying to tell my own story, instead of actively writing it in the language of my actions.

Yet, were I to make a request to those who hold the sway of granting, I’d ask of this- if all others must fade, leave me with the sonic sector upon this decent of the mortal coil. I’d take them all, if you’ve got them- but if the choice falls down to one, I’ll chose the one based upon the most permeating waves.

A cop out, for sure. As I know whatever goes on hardware wise outside, the inside cognition already holds other-worldly might in the séance of the forgotten. Another reason I attempt to stave off unconscious cognition. Within the dreams held upon a fuller spectrum of neural activity, I’ve seen scenes long forgotten come forth with unintelligible life. Or the potent hypotheticals of which no hiding exists. A luxury often taken for granted in my more waking phases.

Bold would be the redeeming word for such demands. And whatever I get left with is at least in part due to some circumstance within my control. The cost of being a tough guy with a loud amp and no ear protection. A dumbass aesthetic that damn near all professionals would advise against- yet there I was, and here I am, thinking myself all cool.

So, I suppose, were I to offer forth the proper postures of gratitude to the individual perception granted inlet by my senses, it would be this. To hear songs and sing, until such musical hearts cease beating. To see, though impossible for it all, as much of the good, and grand and glorious my ticking clock permits. To feast upon seemingly accidental biodome I’ve had the fortune in which to be born.

And to continue to ask others upon their own perceptions. And if not to ask outright- at least hold witness to what they throw out there. I am lucky enough to have a history of such encounters and far from a shortage in my present. So allow me to get over myself, that I might carry onward with such habits. For as long as the ever decaying faculties might allow.