Why am I here?  This existentialist asks again as she asks again every day.  Apparently I am still human in this human body again this morning!  So I am here to be human.  Ah, I have a name, I am still the same or similar enough to yesterday to be carrying the same name given by my mother and father.... apparently.  I make not too many assumptions on this new day, as an existentialist, you see.  So glad to have another opportunity today to breathe, to pulse, to smile.  I feel how the smile is a gift to myself and back to where I came from, back to where the pulse of my heart comes from... there is a "we" and we smile together.  
   
 Ah, this pulse, it likes to couple as the universe and the yin and yang wants to dance and flip and turn and spin and find purchase in my heart, in my smile, in my dance with you as you walk through my door and be a fountain, a little doorway, a peek into the eternal fountain, a sliver of that joy in my coming to and you coming to me as we have this chance to embrace what we are designed to be as vessels of pleasure.    
   
 The universe is a flower: pictured in link.  
   
 The universe is a flower, pleasure blooms in my little sexy cigar lounge, in my lips, teeth, arches of my feet, in my hot wet, expands a whole universe in your growing cock exploding shiny glistening clusters of mini-stars and quarks the sexy universe wakes up this morning and I wake inside it waking, we awaken as we die to pleasure and let go of what we think we know and just appreciate this uncontrollable pressure and wanton desire we succumb to and it is good.  
   
 Good morning!  It is good!  We celebrate.    
   
   
   
 As an existentialist I know I am designed for pleasure and there just isn't enough of us taking up the pledge to embrace it deeply but here on TER I can see we are here interested together in pleasure but for what purpose?  This is the question of existentialists... for we ask to what end we live?  I but to give the gift of gratitude back to where my very pulse comes from and I offer us both up to that incredible mystery of Life that wants us coupling as the intricate amazing cluster of electrons and protons and quarks buzzing about as a body that we see and the body we don't see, the body we understand, the body we don't understand and it is made of such love and intelligence I can feel it.    
   
 The same that makes a flower, the most gorgeous flower, makes me.  Makes you. This is why I love Georgia O'Keefe... dazzled by the softness and wonder of a flower.  As she says, it takes time to know a flower, it takes time to know a friend. The scent of a flower of me the scent of the flower of you in the testosterone there in your groin, especially and me like a bee and your cock like a stamen.  Pollinating and cross pollinating pleasures newly discovered now and the scent of my pleasure on your nose kissing me back as one slicker kiss than when you first entered the door just minutes ago, you a returning passenger on the re-welcoming of my montage getting lost in streams of consciousness and the body of pleasure unraveling reason to a bigger reason as big as the ever expanding place we come from opening like one gigantic flower blossoming the more we come the more the mystery grows its own pleasure and in the mix a new muse is born sparkling in your eyes already blessing me in ways unaccountable by any logic but feeling it in the space around me and in me becoming me, making me, making us and making our day have a reason to smile like a dream that comes true, it's true, beyond comprehension like the spiral dynamic.