by DJ Sprague

Op. 6   The Ark

 From the sun and Earth long ago married, has life adapted and flourished. From a fertilized seed I floundered, and raised'up to crawl. I stood tall to perfect crawling, I walked to perfect standing, and ran to perfect walking...then ran and ran to feel perfect. From the delicate magic of father spirit's aura, from the fertile womb of my earthly alpha, in the moon I feel, a life'giving vision. As life evolved hardy and errant, in spirit and body, its memory I inherit. From all this, have I been delivered since the beginning when a ray of sun sought a fertile sea. Life still clings to its earthly womb, and I, having been freed, and having played to exhaustion, and fought to conclusion, and having wished long and aspired far, feel this sea, its memory, its gentle calling

1  Time, space, and matter, and the nature of life are the events of creation. And where I am within the nature of my senses, the subtle forces are the powers that bind, and the powerful forces are so, only for a limited time. And all I know are the effects of shifting infinities of mind, dichotomies of Will between the one, and many within

 Within this world of effects, I plummet into the smallest of small until changing masses of light indicate to me, where single bodies of spirit are but ghosts...probabilities beyond the inclination of my mind to capture them in suspended time. Yet, they nevertheless appear as delicate and fleeting as matter is reluctant to reveal itself...appearing as red, yellow, blue, and green, the universe is brilliance beaming, gleaming through openings in the opaque mist, where I see the heven'bowe, made also of yellow, red, blue, and many others. All delicate effects within the vastness of the universe are one through the inevitable spiral that one small body makes to a larger deep space..where I must be very careful with thought, because here, the mind is intense, and within an artificial day, thought can soar unleashed, making me central, and through miniscule portals, make weighty the slightest events..where dark voids are the borders of dreams, where wantonness for answers now, would give me the experience of eternity..of eternal unrest

2  I am in deep space within the swirling arms of a large radiant body. I am where a portion of creation breaks down, and the radiance of matter is given in all directions. I am within a galactic body spinning inward with many families of starry bodies, and I move imperceptibly, around the soft incandescent glow of its heart. Around me, great bodies of void are made. They are curved passageways throughout the universe, and I am within one, within its current, wynding and spiraling outward, as I journey inward

  So large is the universe, that countless generations of lives would pass to see only more void. Generations of civilizations would see little more in neighboring starry clusters than what their ancestors, thousands of years before, were able to see..for great seas of space separate the starry clusters, and within its midst, I am moving, traveling, drifting throughout the infinitudes. Before me are black voids where light enters but does not leave. And the memory in the sparkling night of galaxies long since passed..their light has yet to arrive. How great and vast, how endless the Universe is! Yet, how profoundly limited it is! I am specifically bounded and formed by my own limitations to sense it

  I sense galactic bodies. I see them in all directions..yet, I know not, which un'steady light is from the same body, which is not! Knowing not, as the race of illusions course through immense reaches of space, evolutions arise from violent beginnings, where forces of Will meet infirmaries of mind and implode..exploding into brilliant radiance, boldly expanding in all directions. Here and now, where time and space is meaningless, into the emptiness I pass, its miniscule voids re'passing into me, throughout me..through my many portals, am I born on a journey within rapid currents of space, and fated to the destinies of newborn creations

  From the delicate substance of stars are dreams fashioned. From the solitude of dreams does substance emerge into great oceans of space. Beyond a lifetime, far beyond many lifetimes, bits of matter self'aware, gather and re'gather, like with like, and disperse into the great emptiness beyond. They gather into great galaxies within which, life may have evolved several times over again before the image of one starry metropolis is able to reach another. Suspended bits of consciousness a'mass within eddies of streaming space..within quiet pools of space, they aggregate, and disassociate because the sum of all matter, space, and time is always changing, expanding, pooling...eons streaming, space abounding!...light convoluting, matter compounding

 Since the beginning of what I can see, oceans of space have accommodated many evolutions of thought. Inspiration, a mighty scythe...death and re'birth freshen and re'freshen...color, vision..sound and fragrance. Reaching out to what is there, I feel enlightened..and then intensely, feel this sensation of I, this I'am

3  Where the senses change, portals into creation change, and the universe is changed. Amid universes in transition is hinterspace. Within hinterspace, the path of reason wanders, meanders, and stumbling..recovers and clears itself by reflecting upon new convolutions. And ever deeper, grows its shadow..ever longer and darker. Amid expanding space and conscious light, I stretch out to wherever the mind wherever radiant tentacles of a sun span throughout many galaxy systems, and when all the self'conscious eyes become weary, cognition wavers, and self'reflection deteriorates old rafters of belief, I be..disintegrating old webs of thought between them into dust scattering throughout the vastness of dark empathy. They become utterly disintegrated, disassociated, but charged by the light of a star, the birth of a new mind is given. The radiance of light heightens..the disintegration of its fiery surface maddens for its own sake..for the sake of even more space, metric volumes of void pass and outstretch all affinities for matter self'aware, for such knowing too compounded, or too singular, isolates too much

 The gravity of substance wavers, as infinity wavers, contemplating the finite, for this place called hinterspace is given by conflicting stations of mind..and when a portion of the conscious should lapse into unconscious sleep, this now self'aware disappears..and I know the emptiness darkly, I become refreshed by its oblivion

4  Throughout the distant reaches of creation, there are the immense seas of space, and the great rivers of space that feed them. Above, below, ahead, and behind me, the brightness of swirling bodies of light and matter sparkle like radiant diamonds. They are seen through clear rivers streaming, through seas of void drifting. The wandering rivers are like the cool clearness of a fresh'born brook making its way to the vast waters of a primordial sea. Throughout all the stretches of mind, great rivers of void begin from willful distortions of space and time, when for an instant, motion and dimension cease as the stars give all moods of color, as its radiant beams expand in all directions, and end..when gathered into an image of a star within me

 The stars in the heavens are upon a course within a boundaryless universe. Paths of light become lost within great bodies of dust. Vast dark bodies discharge their captured light as red sullen heat, but each image of a star I see, is a mirage of a time long since passed, as they find their way through the many streams of clear space to link, through their many forms, eddies of space with the starry metropoli beyond

 And starry bodies everywhere are formed from the solitudes of a vast dimly connected consciousness, for here, wherever I turn in space, blackness surrounds me. I feel deep darkness around clear channels through which images of the past shine..through which I move, and sense gentle heat from dark space, where starlight from every direction, near and far, have entered its immense system of minute particulate matter..a dark ocean where mirages of the past, end by their own dispersion and distortion. I feel currents of space passing through me. I sense gentle streaming of disconnected light merging and separating around me. The many starry bodies brighten and fade, the patches of dark darken, and another murky, disarranged body of dust, becomes a warm embryo of a star

5  As regions of void become greater around me, I am soothed by its simple clarity. I feel soft darkness, and I am struck softly by radiant light. Amid the celestial heavens, within the confines of time, I feel the ancient light of an old universe glitter at the end of its journey within me. Nearby, within a swirling arm of starry metropoli, the star of molten Earth slowly revolves with other stars, all a'collecting unto themselves the many species of matter according to their nature and abundances. Upon this sun, radiant plasma surging, ascending high, arching and falling into itself, packs into deep compression. From this sun, steady streaming of imponderable might, seeps deeply into all matter, into all of me. This starry body is more than just a source of is a foundation upon which, definitions of space and time endure as brilliant light'beams gather and flow out in all directions. Fires from the deep of supercritical matter arise to make new substance. All matter forms again and again within the inferno radiance of the stars. Light compounding into the matter we are. The emptiness around a newborn star, causes matter to turn into itself, and so convoluted, turns inward evermore, and upon its long journey back from where it will never return, dominates its space, within which, its moons so specifically formed, finely attune in rhythm around a young star. Eternities of stillness subdue. The earthen floor cools violent upheavals of flaming molten spirits, and the ascending spirits are calmed by the quiet darkness there. I feel the assurance of its mass, and the inescapable relation it has, with other masses

 From matter, already configured with attitude, comes matter self' aware effecting attitude. And so it was, from a deep distant past, from the present and distant future that will pass in like manner, out of the un'selfconscious dust, a self'conscious eye having aged with the stars, will give birth to a self'conscious mind thinking for the first time..and any aware, even dimly aware, remembers distant beginnings, but only as a feeling

6  From violent molten magma erupting, days and nights are uneven..erratic..varying in discord with the mirages of distant stars. From the infernal bowels of Earth, mountains spew black fiery clouds to divide many times the forming waters. Here, elements of creation meet openly. They meet crimson tides, purple skies..the earthen floor, its amorphous mass of sulfuric yellow, and grey, and smoldering black caverns. Waters occasionally form out of the dense dust and rapidly cool the brooding skies, to bring down upon the dark disarrayed surface, fierce rain beating..the Earth cools, and disorderly light and indifferent voids atone with sultry spirits over land and sea. The waters violently surge and rise to thin ethers, rising to the primal dint of a radiant sun, to the primeval mind of empty space there, for the laws that govern the relations between great starry systems, govern also, the relations between the smallest bits of matter

 In the beginning, from the darkness of celestial deep, primeval consciousness of the spirits' continuum, convolutes...becoming elementals, involuted systems of matter..becoming complex convolutions of itself, evolving into ever'more complexities within an un'interrupted environment. Ever moved, ever moving, it takes from the spirits over land and sea, and from the waters only, what it needs to resist, even if for only a moment longer, the brunt of any intent or chance event that would quench its inner dim light. And the watery deeps of murky rivers over steaming land, flow rapidly into the seas, into the skies, like some boundless need striving to surpass the bounds of its time, for the first convolution of consciousness is a particle of light escaping eternal nothingness..the need to be elsewhere, the Will to continue to be..not by grand mission, design, or purpose, but because it be, knowing no other thing to be. And from this, systems dominate other systems of lesser Will. I sense the boldness of primitive fire where it meets the sea. I sense the notes of many melodies. I feel the chants of primordial beginnings

7  Great spirits moved as massive unyielding storms. They were readily fed by soaring eruptions of molten magma from the earthen basins deep beneath the seas. Massive fronts of alien gas from smoldering rocks and lakes of fire move across land, carrying turbulence and debris. The Earth was aglow, by the flow of the molten liquors of its young heart. Through many eons did the waters gather from gentle vapors upon the winds, rapidly arising, swiftly moving, readily giving and taking with its supple nature. From giant mountains towering high in the dark heavens, thick molten rock oozing, foaming, inferno towers alight the black heavens with streaming scarlet red..yet, as hot and everlasting as this radiant Earth appeared, giant clouds burst into thick rain, and quenched the dark moodiness of black barren valleys, far below

 From eons of fire, did the waters gather into greater seas and vast oceans, until basins and mountain peaks were subdued by a great body of water, of roving swells and dense whiteness, of foggy mist settling upon waters deep, upon surfaces shallow. Wandering howling gales move great bodies of water, and fierce waters surge toward the sky, until they become momentarily suspended as giant mountains..and crashing down, they would set into motion, deep valleys upon the surfaces of waters deep..for as the waters were released by fire, they are free, ascending currents over sea, falling and spreading its silky essence, a supple awareness over barren land

 With seas calm, spirits gently flow, wandering through great spanses of time..shifting, spreading, converging..shearing, convecting, spinning..traveling easily far and wide as cool misty winds across vast plains of water. Clear waters suspended high amid the ethers collect into great bodies of white mists. From horizon to horizon, they settle upon the seas, and muffle faraway erupting mountains. Pillars of fire feed the sea from rivers of hot liquid magma..and a deep stillness settles upon the oceans. Where molten fire and quenching waters meet..where, out from the grainy mud, primordial vessels peak, and spread throughout the seas as the first embodiments of peace. From the dust, from the fire in union with a murky sea, throughout eons of crimson sunsets and radiant penetrating dawns, the first primordial bodies formed. I feel for brief moments its inner domain, feeling these simple havens, the need to be this quiet reprieve, a temporary rest from a restless quest among the be this peace made greater by fiery upheavals of a violent world, where, in beginning, there are no bounds of the beginning, there are no bounds

8  So well hosted, I dwell longer and longer as the hosting body permits. I live as deep as this silent sea, as long as starry radiance gives, upon the surface of a young Earth, the Will 'to be' lives within a delicate body, a fragile host so readily changing from the violent transgressions against its small, but affable temple of peace. Within these simple bodies, sweet dreams from afar drift in abundance, for even the most radical variant, may become the only parent. So many are there!..but only when the total of what I am, feels greater than the sum of my parts, do I feel alive! That whole of being, that gentle completeness from which, a larger, freer world is known..where I feel the fullness, a need for realness, that affinity for the radiance..that station 'to be' I sense a world larger than I, there is! cause to be, if only to experience one feeling..because I am greater! than the sum of my parts. I live, and readily divide to sharpen perception, and pause from sensation, however meager the feeling may be. Dying, and momentarily breathless for a brief eternity, re'emerging as two if necessary, feeling the greater whole beyond the parts I am. And deep within, is the heart, the memory by which a primal cell becomes my cell, my body in which, the sum of its parts, is less than the feeling of gentle peace within its confines

 Countless times, over and over again, dividing into myself again, holding on and transcending the limits of growth, am I predisposed..for within me is a deep need to be a bit longer in this vast feel a bit more, the sensation..if to be no more than momentary peace within this fragile haven of instinct and space..where there is no time for contemplations..only the urgency of compelling need..for in the sea, upon the sea, in the midst of the wind, upon the shoals, a simple dream'state roots into the sun, into the wind, within vast currents of swelling seas they begin. Deep green upon the tides are simple havens wandering, drifting into every crevice, every rift, every crag in every rock. One dreamstate or another, competes with another in its own way for earth and sun. One or another is favorably or un'favorably selected by the whole, in a violent, demanding world

9  Primordial havens have evolved to be more complex, simply because they exist longer, and when stressed so deep, a new body is formed to keep. Within one, I am in the midst of a great void through which, vast differences of substance meet..yet, made predominately of empty space also, I am moved, and I move. I am touched only by that which was, in the next instant, forgotten. Only dimly, within this tiny haven, wandering aimlessly..touching and being touched, am I under the spell, the sensations of myself. I change deeply within. I divide many times and grow in complexity..feeling more and more, as the dark of 'giving and taking' selects those who see more, feel more, or move more..selecting those who are stronger, who strive to adapt and exist to be, evermore longer. Only in this now, has all ever lived, and so it always has been that all living is given only by all once lived, and so it shall always be, that while all to live will be given by all living now, for all to live, only the conscious dust bring..for only from consciousness, can consciousness spring

10  Ages ago, the moon settled from a molten glow, and cooling to the darkness of its new face, it set itself in motion Earthbound, adjusted at a uniform pace. As moon'phases pass, great seas are compelled to follow, and a rhythm is set, the seas are swayed, and the waters rise slowly upon the land and retreat, for they are moved by the chants, of full and dark moons

 Violent storms of wind stir the surface of a great ocean, from which great mountains with foamy crests suddenly rise to a peak and separate..rolling and crashing down upon the heavy surface of the ocean deep, ending thickly upon land so steep. The radiant sun beats down upon barren ground, and heat swells dust'ridden space. From the dust, waters collect into massive iridescent mists. Wind'strewn rains assault the sides of rocky mountain cliffs. Upon barren plains, the rains collect into raging rivers racing to the seas..through rugged encindered terrain, through darkened murky days and pitch black nights..beneath thundering light arcing the skies and striking convulsing Earth, wind'driven dust, crude and coarse, rises high, riding upon great bodies of wandering spirits, smoothing and polishing the sides of massive monoliths, and rocky hills, and jagged jutting mountain cliffs

 Bits of earth travel within currents of swelling rivers to a wide open sea. Effortlessly and swiftly are they carried. Abundant silt makes gentle, the ocean floors, and white sand and windblown barren land by the seas are sparsely inhabited by primordial green, and through translucent windows in a dark murky sky, sunsets are made red by hot magma flowing. Driven upon the shoals, I sense giant flashes of light across the sky, and feeling thunder distantly, softly, the quiet hiss of molten fire enters the deep roar of the sea. I feel intimately, the gentle rhythm of swells, heavily rising and dropping and shattering upon rocky shores. A great sea moves subtlely..swaying, shifting..rising, falling...the Earth turns as the waters reach for a captivated moon. Ocean currents move freely upon still waters, and phases of moonglow make another day between twilight and dawn, for the sea, the universe of primal beginnings, serves also as the blood of the living. Striving for feelings more, deep within the waters, or upon some quiet shore, I feel a gentle world against which, motion I make. Swiftly moving, a'wandering, gliding..rapidly submerging with the speed of my Will, I feel the waters give'way, yielding to the passage of my body..I rise swiftly through the gentle resistance of this silky essence, for what I deeply breathe fills my veins..rising faster to the borders of my world, I break into the delicate ethers of the heavens..and freed, I am suspended, feeling free..feeling free in motion

 Ahead are sullen waters, and the sky looms over the horizon, dark and murky. Again, the Earth shakes and the waters tremble until they surge upon the shore..rising high as a giant mountain, it suddenly disappears, and vanishes beyond. I move swiftly, preserving myself within, carefully avoiding those who would consume me, for their own sustenance. The darkened skies approach, and stormy waters foam and swirl, I submerge deeper. Throughout within me, is essence of sea. Through me, the waters pass. Of me, the waters become the most of what I feel. Through a great sea, I pass..swiftly, easily, smoothly. And wherever the waters ascend from the sea I breathe, they travel to places I will never know

11  Dark rubbles lay quietly as memory of a violent past, when stone, die'd and cast from mountain foundries were shaped into monoliths through eons unending. The Earth, dark and moist, was enriched with each eon of life, death, and decay. The warm radiance of a starry body faithfully gives, from dark to light..light to dark. Life to awake..sleeping lightly..darkly living, all light, readily convoluting. And once inbeing, there is a new light!..a need to see more a'new, to touch more, to more wholly feel!..until, with complex needs, I struggle to see the light, for wherever there is light, there is definition of space. Within every bit of substance, there is light and space. Without light, there is no substance, no existence, no meaning, no presence of I, nor sensation

 I feel the presence and absence of spirits around me. The stillness is thick and torrid. The sun burns. Putrid vapors from thick bogs, and pungent swamp smogs, rise with scalding ethers from the bowels of Earth. I seek the comfort and stillness of quiet caves, for winds from north and south will approach and spread cold upon a dark earthen floor

 Our quaking bones and quivering veins..the blood thickens to avoid the pain of cold, while I sleep in fire'lit caves. Through piercing winds fiercely howling, I sleep..only to suddenly awake, to a slight quake..of a dry twig, a falling stone, or splintering bone. I am deep in our cave..and my deep, yet to be born, stirs in dark sleep

12  The Earth is of land and sea..each whole and complete from struggles to be, in every action and reaction wanting to be. Through eons of generations, every desire, every passion seeks every crag and crevice, every depth of sea, every spirit of haven above, every niche of Earth, below. Indomitable spirit!...evermore abundant and hungry, frozen by fragrance unseen, or charged by the slightest movement upon the floor, or enlightened and taken high above, upon unseen ethers there...this haven I am in, seems peaceful and fair

 And life abounds within the sea, by the seas..upon hills, within lush green valleys..within currents above, upon the land everywhere, I feel enriched by so much that has lived. Throughout the land, I sense its fragrance. Its softness gives way as I walk toward the sky. Seeing afar, I sense a deep shadow passing with me, and for a brief eternity, feel faintly, the presence of me..feeling deeply, far off, the billowy whiteness in the sky, I gaze long, and feel the birds fly, feeling faintly the presence of me, moving slowly across distant vision..rapidly changing, over a dark horizon

13  Throughout the universe, there is mind co'mingling with matter. There is mind in matter. And as great as its thought may be, so must its feelings deep and profound as its knowledge can be far and wide, for the need to be permeates all matter, and emerges as phases of darkness and light with its own need to be purely, a subject of circumstance..a creature knowing, even for only a brief moment, knowing with no sense of past or future, for better or worse, the bles'sed sensual..the eternal sensuous

 Even supernatural masters of cognitive evolutions must also rest..for, in as much and as far as they may see, they too, like any being, have their path of darkness within this vast, glittering universe. They too, must sleep..and in that sleep...the flurry of butterflies, and wandering critters of all kinds..the wait of a spider, the anticipation of its web is given...the hawk hovering over a field, the field mouse digging for its home..the fish seeking smaller fish, the lark ascending high..the gater dozing down'under..the arbor sleeping under a blanket of darkness...sleep within deep sleep, the un'selfconscious myriad of all, is but a sleep..a sweet darkness, a reprieve far away, from the event horizons of their day

14  Among the multitudes of all manners of life..through the spirit of their living encounters, the mighty conquers the weak..the caterpillar deceives, appearing as a snake, or the bold spirit of a tiny creature attacks with imposing jaws...its own destiny, determined to make. The dawn horse gains stature through generations, growing mighty with great speed to match its own need, to be. In the deep of all substance is the change I seek, seeking diversions for the eternity I am...I drift throughout this earthen body, in the midst of a vast sea..having been clearly created..having been born into a body that will certainly wither in time..having been born of spirit in that time..and in time, to inevitably know the different courses that body and soul take, back to the primordial sea from which it came. Such vastness of space is this sea, created by countless eternities of substance. Such vastness is there, to serve even fleeting moments of life. I am the space, I occupy. I am the unseen ethers I breathe. I am the waters emerging from wide'open seas. Among the living, am I..each giving what the other needs. I am profoundly bounded by what I see..bounded by what I think I see and know, most certainly bound to what I feel. And within the bounds of habit, narrow limits of memory serve. So timeless is any beginning, that perception is quick and intense, and inclined to enlarge what is there..where impression is affecting, and readily effects ardent retreat, or manic attack, where everything seems to be happening at once. Un'reflected, life is intense, each moment an eternity..when life passes so easily, like a fleeting dream

15  A body does not move unless there is separation, unless there is another body, unless the body is restless, to break the stillness.  Through countless bodies in motion, vast numbers of starry bodies seem unchanging! Am I but a fleeting dream of its soul? so intimately bound and ever darkly restricted, so deeply a part of all..that the sweet earth rises up within me, the winds blow gently throughout me, and for a moment..I feel the ends of my fingers, the palm of my hand...I feel the rhythm of my walk, the sweet nectar from the colors of life'giving fruit. Within this body I feel, aloneness I feel with every turn in direction, with every decision of action..I spontaneously move, fast or slow, or remain in perfect stillness..pause for sweet fragrance, or the spell of a vision, or the feeling of wondrous spirits around simply be...satisfied to be, just substance of dreams

16  All is set in motion by the Earth spinning, turning the dark to light, the light to dark..the life to death, death to rebirth. Days are even, past days forgotten, sustenance is plenty, the winds are warm, my burden is heavy. I move. With each step, the rich earth pushes back, and I am comforted by its presence. Deep within sleep, warm winds are but a soft blanket..and upon the winds, floral seeds are carried far. From its diaspora, does life so readily change, do some that were large become small, do others that were very small, become greater..radically changing if need be, flowing, conforming..dissolving, forming, darkly compelled, the predator adapts, to catch the prey, but a variant prey survives, living its way, and passing it on to descendants beyond. And so it is!..that all of life is sustenance to one form of life or another, arising from dark Earth, from the waters and air, from the radiance above...all the stars there

 Within dark cool shade, stirring from sleep, I awake in stillness and sense a commotion in an arbor as two creatures in the air fight for their bounds of space. I feel deep crevices in the palms of my hands. I look at them. I extend my fingers, slowly, out and back again. I watch my fist clench and tighten. I hear the delicate trickle of fresh waters, and feel impassioned by the intense fragrance of fruit blossoms. With the other foot upon the ground, I slowly rise upon my legs feeling my strength swell, and my arm in motion, stretches to grip an arbor arm. As my weight bends its grain, fruit falls to the ground. I reach down..grasp the soft sweetness, and was surely meant to be eaten

 Beasts and darkness everywhere. Alien darkness creeps within shadows. Anguish penetrates stone. Night suddenly enters me. Screaming winds are driven by hostile aliens, with nature's giving and violent taking. The alien waits within the darkness. I live, dreaming be awakened, jolted suddenly from elsewhere, into 'now and here.' Within me, within yesterday am I, moving, roaming, suddenly appearing, a thousand'eyes attack, through the darkness, over rushing waters..from a ridge above, from high in a tree, from the deep of a familiar shadow..fiery beasts burst upon us. From my deep I echoed, with anger and molten fire as one! And together we roared! We lashed! We thrashed and gnashed, as we felt indelibly, the heart of this fanged beast, who would readily take us for sustenance..contemplating well its spirit, before piercing it with its own, finely honed tips of bone

 And now, on this morn, wrapped gently in simple quiet, restful breeze..warm sun falls softly upon the young. They sparkle in their play, like dancing light upon unfolding leaves. I am warm and at peace. My deep is heart, a steady rhythm by a still'quiet pond where the grubs lay. Upon this morning warm, a mist penetrates the silence. Subtle pleasures course throughout me. With spirits enpassing, the bright misty air makes the shallow pond, gentle and still. I felt the pond, its stillness and its shoals beyond, when suddenly, peace abruptly broke. The stillness in me felt this moment darken, for something is upon me, within me..something heavy, is impending

 At the water's edge, I feel an unfamiliar stillness, a quiet much deeper than what is around me. Something alien seeps into me. Deep silence, a deep aching..alone, heavy solitude. And I turned back to perceive what I saw moments image, silent and still. A familiar darkness was there, upon the mirrored surface of the still'water pond. The image there, penetrated my eyes. An emptiness I feel, and having fallen by the dint of this immutable angst, a dark reflection continues to be given..this body, I, doubled in mind. Quickly, I touch the water's edge and my image vanishes, and quickly I move to another place to see. Touching the darkened image to feel, substance upon water's surface, I see. Again, I disappear! Moving again, I seek the vision upon the quiet pond. Again I darken image is sharp and clear, and there, made of light am I, untouchable and isolated..made of substance so easily distorted by the slightest touch. Suddenly, again..a flashing! I feel my eyes..and dazed, I touch my body. I am assured. I touch the water. I flutter. The light divides me! Restlessness seems unending, this emptiness within, brings light to fall upon old dark memories. Remembering the deep stillness, the heavy air..the thousand'eyes flashed amid wavering cries..terror and panic, my deep within, is moving. Being moved, sweaty heat is upon me in the midst of this alien quiet..for I see so clearly, simple innocense..and the beasts of darkness fade, when we became one and larger than they. The still walls of rock impart a hollow voice penetrating throughout within, throughout the emptiness there. Only there, does the past have light. Only from there! can future be enlightened

 Knowing this light within, I feel the pulse of heart, I feel this now intensely! I remember deeply, I feel deeply! knowing the fragile image of I. Feeling estranged, a vast emptiness...this freedom, a word, body, my life! I reachout to the past. Images from there, quickly emerge and pass through me, into future. And I remember the evening before...fragile night, heaven's light, when I reached'out to the image of a memory so clear..reaching out, to touch the blinking, twinkling radiance, amid the cool night air

  Quiet meadow..water's stillness at my feet, with this image filling my mind, I feel 'all and everything' as I feel this “I” moving throughout me..feeling life with the light of past, present, and beyond..this I, upon the surface of a still'water pond..deep darkness, forever gone

17  From the dust of earth, from wind and water, the living are formed by the body's seed deep within its cells. By the essence of every cell, of bodies of countless cells, countless varieties are made by the dark cosmic light. And each living system selects and consumes other living systems. And all living are subject to selection, and together they are, within the changing seasons of time, living and begetting their own kind. And so it came to be, lords, in the name of the divine, would sacrifice a child to their overlord, unless in their eyes, their own did they find

18  Since the beginning of waters upon cindered land, when the open skies allowed starry light to pass through, life evolved upon this earthen moon of a young star. And as I am, I dwell for moments fragments of primordial inner light, merging with ever'emerging creation with the means to divide one's gather as one, dividing as one..regathering with new sensitivity, dwelling longer, extending our sensitivity beyond, feeling a greater world..feeling that I belong

 And with such a home, I have become many embodiments of light..emerging, struggling to exist, with the balances of chance that will tip my way, or per chance opportunity, favor me

 For eons and eons, ethers of the sea rose with heavy heat. The waters of primeval life became freed, freely rising high into the sky..joining each other, and having been swept'up by other dark shadows upon the earthen floor, storms and fierce rains fell steadily in the northlands, and the primeval waters were never seen again as they were..nor felt in the same way under the same brooding skies from which they came

19   We lived with fear of many formidable creatures larger than we..and when pursued, be quickly upon a path that could only be swift and straight and deeper into this haven through many stout arbors, leaving far behind those great white fangs pursuing...having appeared suddenly and profoundly, as our sense of impending doom would, as suddenly, disappear in the midst of aggressive retreat..keeping enough space and time between us and certain transfiguration from this moment to moment with less tension and fear, for life to suspend and hold dear, whatever our senses load and prevail and stand, to see farther..and walk'down those creatures, we would stalk

 We roam through the extremes of heat and cold, and the small prevailed and became bold. And by the demise of generation after generation, by ancient arbors and flora of all kinds, shedding yearly from waxing and waning days, the earth became softer..deeper..and darker. And from sparkling mountains peaks, melting waters flow swiftly over barren tundras..flowing, swaying far, seeping down into the rich earthen floor

 An arbor branch makes my arm longer. With a sling, I am stronger. With a stone, I am harder. Dimly lit caverns are thick with the fat of sizzling meat. The stars in the darkness above, are the eyes of gods, looking down upon us. Covenants of a beast make huts of skin. And seeds are collected, and set to soil. And time lives, but with the slow beat of harvest moons. And self'light still emerges from the still'water ponds, bare beginnings of future dawn

20  Cold winds race over vast grazing plains. The beasts pan their horizon. They move swiftly, driven by some unseen shepherd upon tundras of cold stunted grass..smitten by stark white mountains aside a frozen sea, bitten by piercing winds raging over land and sea. Wild packs of hungry wolves and long'fanged cats, and huge jackals feed upon the sick and lame, the very young, and the very old

 We roam far and wide..mindless of morning passing and day changing, we love the hunt, the catch of prey, and there is no returning to the warmth of flickering, crackling light, and gentleness of mate, nor the joy of sweet innocence..none of this until there is sustenance to provide, no matter how late

 Time to chip an edge for the heart of a beast, and time to strike the rock that gives its light to the wood, by our cold, cold feet. Tending the fire for the night, dancing light glimmers and draws thought into its radiant powers. Needles of bone are used to penetrate the skin of those bones. By spearheads made of rock, by loud drums, we are more powerful, and so enlarged, we pursue the fear and rage of those bones

 Painted images upon cavern walls, between which bones lay, arrayed like with like..for the beasts, they are strong and sturdy..and upon those walls shadows dance, and with fire burning, we are stronger, more enduring than they

 Early in the morn, the hunt begins. Murmurings of fear and dread are muffled by a dead'quiet mist around us. The hesitant are lead by the bold. Fear hears the slightest movement nearby, moving together as one, quietly, barely disturbing the weeds between shrubs and trees...moving carefully, roaming as one...wary, and aware...that as we hunt, we may be hunted...and when coming upon a prey, silently survey the territory. Deploy quietly, then together, beat the drums loudly. Shouting, screeching, cracking wood...great as one!..because the beast is dim and far away, and we sense impending death, waiting as long as nerves can bear..waiting to overcome fear..for to wait, is to also be bait for the darkness of alien time..the time, the beasts wait for us

 As much as the dark force beyond us would give, it takes away. The seed of light within, is nourished, and I am renewed, but from new light there is also new darkness. New shadows fall darkly within, and thick walls of fear had to be made with stone, within which a quiet Eden, a safe haven the village inhabitants make, against a vast, imposing world

21  In the evening, ghostly silhouettes move upon walls of stone. Flickering light seeking itself in the stillness of dry grass and wood..spitting and crackling, the spirit of fire lives freely, always the same light, never speaking the same way. Red cinders, warm and glowing, reveal where sun had been stored for dark cold nights. And days are made warm. Within its warmth, dreams drift high and faraway. A bright old moon turns night into a soft incandescent day, for us to see where fear otherwise may. Fire gives us this day with its radiant light..but too close, it will burn. Too far away, cold as night

 Under the stars, I become lost when light dances lightly upon my hands, but with my hands unable to hold it, my eyes become lost in a fragmented past. This fire lives!..absorbing me, seeking me everywhere within, every place without. Wherever I live, whatever I am doing, bits of sun enter me. All around me, it penetrates and reflects, and I feel the boundaries of darkness, while its gentle warmness assures me a safe place in a hostile night

 A cunning beast dares not enter our firelight!..for it too, by its living deep, senses the radiant substance it keeps. As the flickering radiance deepens the stillness, I gaze into the fire's depths. Possessed by an unrelenting night, I am scattered into the darkness, until those wondrous moments!..when the firelight inside me burst and radiates..when I feel whole, and I see!...seeing whenever the sun, for a brief moment, enters me

22  An abundance of creatures, there are. The forest is heavy with territorial edicts and omnipresent movement seeking sustenance. Through day and night, the forest and meadows are alive. In the deep of night, the wild howling and screeching I dread. I feel their heavy spirit in the air, their presence there, penetrating. Into a deep ravine I descend..with their spirits I must blend, to know them

 Darkness envelopes me, and I arrest motionless until I sense well enough through the dimness. Suddenly behind, savage fangs approach steadily, I turn and fix upon its night'lit eyes..locking onto them, sensing its hungry soul after mine, I strongly forge through the bush..silently..undivided. I cannot permission for any separation between me and 'all and everything.' I approach directly to its charge, and when the dark'fanged creature sensed my unerring approach, I lurched! Attack! soul assaults its soul. Quickly, nearly upon it, I screech as they. My marrow thickens, my eyes a'light, hair bristling, my soul hungers, and seeing itself in me, it suddenly falls silent, and retreats into a deeper umbra of the night. And I remain, knowing the spirit, of a great she'cat

 Homeward bound, I approach those I once knew..them now, knowing me not. The coat of the she'cat I wear, and they know that the creature's spirit will always be within me. Of the fierce fang I am..of the hungry wolf, am I..the fast heart of the deer, the great heart of the bear. Of these creatures, I am. Upon the earthen floor, each foot is carefully linking the other in meditation, in harmony with the pulse of my veins. Small arbors pass by..and the many songs, the many voices of all creatures follow me, echoing around me, as I pass from one territory to another

 I move not fast, nor slow. I travel as the rivers teach me to do..a path least resistant through the evergreens. The tops of great arbors imperceptibly passby as I sink deeper into the rhythm of walk by the pace of my chant

 Day moves easily into twilight and night, when I rest in a nest laid thick upon arbor arms. And morning is raised with crisp fresh air, and I feel the space and light, and I again begin the rhythm of my pace through valleys and meadows. Easily I move, across small brooks and aside wandering rivers, moving upon the earthen floor, its rolling surface, its softness rises up through my feet, carrying me high..and aside me, the walls of valleys rise up to make a world alive with many creatures gathering their own sustenance, as I, in mind, travel to a past filled with fear and toil, and into the distant past of me, filled with joy and adventure

 Steadfast, I chant the rhythm of my walk. I am fixed fast by the purpose of my longer feeling the pain in my legs, the bottoms of my feet, nor the surface of my face, the floor moves to the rhythm of my pace, in steady motion, daily and nightly..the feeling, the memory of home, compels me

 My gate is long and steady. I can out'walk the fastest of any creature, but I am distracted, seeing sights I never before seen. I pass through, as though I have always known them from some faraway dream. I have become my legs, upon which I rest in motion, for simply waiting am I, to see familiar ground, and the paths upon which, I began

23  Upon a gentle plain, within an oases of lofty palms, of many generations past am I, like the earth deep with the memory of ancestors..bits and pieces of the past assembled into a new whole, we wander and live within a world of spirits' where the earth will give..seeding until earth for fresh land to rent, throughout eternities of rest and motion, faint death from joys and laughters..from the stillness in sadness, and the bitter roots carried thereafter, summer passes quieter and quieter, as our aestival festivals celebrate..later and longer into the night

 In cool shade, we wait for twilight, fashioning our needs from riverside reeds, living in rhythm with all that springs from the earth, in the midst of all that flowers and bears the seeds of future dreams..we dwell here, for as long as dark earth renders to us, the surrender of long past ancestors....our fate also, in time, to give what once lived to all that lives now

24  Within, the isolated there, feels impending death from the inevitable change there, as sustenance wanes, spirit waxes, the alien is freed, and thought soars high..high above in the sky..seeing a'far, as far as my mind can ask why, through eons of nature's indifference..from dim beginnings within primordial seas, preying spirits are created with depravations of affection. Rising, soaring freely, and seeing from a'far, the light within, the light without..all is real. So anointed upon deserts of mind, the mind is freed, and alone, akin only to the wind..mind soars within a boundless sky, over land and sea, flowing deeply through all that lives, flowing swiftly throughout the darkness of me. Above, in the dark firmament, starry'bodies disappear and return to where they were before, and the radiant star that makes our day, disappears until dim..and when reluctant to leave, its anthelion appears upon the opposite rim. The moon changes from dark to a silvery yellow glow, holding essence of sun, for a new dawn within. At night, ancient lights are seen in mountains, rivers, and flora and creatures of all kinds, drifting through its black sea. The moon and the stars move, as the world turns, all living moves and reveals itself throughout the seasons, moving to the rhythm of the stars, to the sway of the sea amid great currents of wind. From the moon, reflections of emotion are revealed, and the primordial need to be is moved by the celestial firmament. During long days and short nights, all that was asleep awakens with warm winds and gentle rain. Nests are made, and flora leaves unfold, from which fragrant blossoms of all colors, sizes, and shapes proceed amid alien spirits, beckoning them to penetrate and disturb its delicate center, the essence of what they are. The seeds give spirit to gentle days, for life has awakened from its sleep, to live again, through each other. The arbor supports the creatures of the air while making shade for small floras. And the floras offer their fruit to be taken and eaten by those who roam, for the essence and future of these living dream'states to also roam. By midsummer, all innocence having been born becomes a new generation of life..intimately changed by past life, subtlely changing by life today..deep within the warm folds of an aestival midday, heavy misted spirits move slowly over plains of tall grass..when the sun enlarges and momentarily rests above, pouring its radiance down, around stunted shadows made..the spirit of creatures panting in shallow sleep, are wrapped by faint soughs in sultry shade 

 A dark hand turns the seasons, and powerful winds from foreign places set upon the land, as day shortens, and the floras shed upon the floor, their sensitivity to the sun in preparation of the cold winds. And throughout the winter night, short days and long dark nights intern life..and the rain from the heavens, turns tepid to cold, limpid to white. By spirits bold, from winter's cold, the leaves are returned, and creatures' hurried flight, long ago abandoned their domain of twigs and mud. Many creatures have flown south against the wind, with only a few of the hardy remaining to stay..and within the caves lay, beasts made gentle by winter sleep. And in that sleep, dark slumber bridges time to another aestival dawn, when all again will awaken new, as though a summer day, was just a yesterday

25  Having the power to govern one's mind is the power that can lead humankind! Yet, her radiant aura, her soft gentle form consumes me. Heart surrendering, sounding into the darkness of beauteous soul..beside her, the dint of my spine lessens, the sound of my heart deepens from darkness enchanting..heart compelling, halting time..disarrayed, I seek some harmony and rhyme

 Aside her, I feel her power. I sense her law. Her gentleness is profound, and profoundly removed from all. For her darkness to become light, would require ingenious kindness, a lifetime to inspire. Her words reflect a self ruler, such as I, who should carefully hear, silently bear, and generously allow. Enchanted by the beauty she inspires, a darkness envelops me. Unwitting destiny she brings. Past and future become vague imagery, her alluring darkness, darkens me..making shade for the turns of light, I be

 A song casts it spell, for the voices within that moan, as this a'rhythm of rhyme is dedicated to its own end, by any corner or facet that imagination may lend, by any face any word may borrow. Love is the jury, and to love, time is resistance, yet gentle assurance, that all words in time shall blend

26  In the midst of the city, a tower rises to the heavens. Far below, the multitudes upon earthen ground, earth'dusted, and earth'bound, scurry around, spoiling for pleasure they lust, toiling for trade, they must. High into the sky, my tower  rises, rising to a point upon which, only I ascend, and commune with the overlord of wind, and dust

 Here, I see as the hawk sees, circling freely above the boundaries I make and enforce. Now, upon this summit, I am in the moon of the beauty that my belov'ed inspires. Like a moon'stricken night, like a goddess she is. Sweet darkness in the center of a dark blossom, her dark beauty spins the moon, and my soul is moved, and I am moved to gain power for her..that I may venture deeper into her darkness. I would readily construct any light that would please her, and live upon the deep waters of instinct, and tack the wind if need be, for alien love upon a wide open sea. For our truth, I would live as much illusion as necessary. A fool for her, I cannot else but be, and fast, under the umbra of lust..for so vast a space is there between us, this space between us, I must know. What is this consuming desire? that grips the backbone of my soul

 Upon this summit, I see the kingdom as one. So much difference, so much in common. For us in peace, so much change within me there be that I become a stranger to my familiars..wondering, in this passing eternity, if I truly had known anyone..or even myself!..knowing only, what I want to see

 So love labors under the spell of romantic psychosis, and often inward turns and burns the wings of a fine madness and its keeper. Love is...the grim reaper. The deeper the love, the brighter the light...the greater the death...the more profound, is the sensation of death, transfiguration, and insight. Living this love, am I. Its space..far, far beyond me..enveloping me so, and so darkened that only by instinct's wake, can we journey through the sea of space we make. Until by her light I also see, shall I dwell in the shadow of my moon upon this tower. I shall live and love in the very midst of her dark soul..good or bad, foul or sweet. It is not for love returned, as much as it is for restoring faded feel intensely, the colors, textures, and fragrances around feel these ends of eternity, as I were in my beginning

 Upon this high tower connecting heaven and Earth, I must be nearest to the gods, and see as a god would see..for having arisen so high, I see the multitudes far below, as they are unable to see themselves. Beholding this great kingdom, as far as the eye can see, it stretches out to an unbroken horizon and beyond. How grand this fortress is!! Yet, at the end of this day, at the end of this light, twilight fades and all the greatest inspirations and bleeding calloused hands are whisked away in a fleeting moment, when the god of Sun and Earth makes an effortless turn, and twilight dims, and the oils burn..its faint light, readily sucked up by the night..yet, her beauty remains! The radiance of my queen still shines! And the night gives her beauty even more, as a lavender moon does, to a pale desert oasis

 Spirit I be, while the ways of love are as mysterious as there are ways of life..while freedom to be, is life's soul..and for this, would I serve for the sake of love'sent..for the sake of feeling love deep. Only this I keep. Of fear and illusion, I be, but of spirit only, I cannot otherwise but be, until upon the vast sea between us, each other, we are able to see

27  I have broke the yoke of sovereign reign, bound by self divine'd edicts of mind...for shall I live in fantasy? Shall I dwell within a dream, so it can be easily changed to suit the desires of some divinity's whim? Upon a desert, I would live..if only I could re'enter my primeval past there, where I may live with those who innocently know, and have no appetite for my soul

 Upon all horizons, as far as I see, bare peaks rise to the sky, and nearby, are boulders and rocky rubble upon dusty ground. There is only the wind to fill the emptiness of this barrenness. Far'off are the plains of red baked clay meeting the parched foothills of sun'scorched mountains. Upon their sides, I see the caves men sought..not for shelter, but for precious rare stones. As pure clear green and brilliant blue opaque, and lusters of translucent red and radiant gold, the bold endeavored to make themselves likewise rare, by adorning their bodies with radiant color..beckoning any to become lost in its charm..its symbol of power, or the beauty mystique, it creates

 Yet, these are but jewels of darkness, where heart is drawn into the center of a cold stone, into the web of another heart already entombed. I have disguised myself as a simpleton, and know the terror of the unrested and its darkness surrounding. With spirit spent, I fled to where the Phoenix sings, faraway from the isolation, that compulsive want brings

 I have smelled rotting market places within the heavy air under a blazing sun. I have felt the heaviness of waste'filled poverty'stricken streets. I have breathed the fermenting flesh of a floating corpse in the midst of an apocalypse..and felt the pungence of jeweled despotic controls. I have witnessed the authority of brutal words, and bludgeons made, to impress the wide'eyed and conscript its innocence with holy script staid. I have heard a sea of words of not much worth...illusions to seduce, love to rape. I have experienced beggars sedentary on earthen bed, pleading for tokens of compassion...that they may yet buy, one more drop of fermented red. Yet, in the midst of all this, I am steadfast, a'moving, a'wandering under open skies, as the world overlords me, with a thousand eyes

 A thousand cries rain, yet I would remain changeless, seeking my mate..for like putty in her palm, I would be..for her, who would willingly remove her jewels of darkness, for me

28  The spirits moving freely over land and sea belong to a greater world. A vast world of a rising and setting sun, of solemn seas deeply swaying to faraway, celestial rhythms..a grand world dwarfing me, affixing me with fire, water, and earth into perfect stillness. I feel warmed by light of day as it reflections cast its spell, but within this eye of me, is an uneasy something through stained mottled glass, that only through its distortions, do I perceive..yet by certainty and its attendant fear and hate do so many perceive. For every pleasure gained, yet, unable to keep, within this ever'present transience, something unchanging I seek. Seeking company with nameless flowers, and refuge in lost caves. Restless, I bask deeply within the soft light of full moons, for its gentle incandescence penetrates me until I forget how easily, quickly, life can so much time can pass without a stir of a simple feeling. So easily, this nighted light penetrates me, entering me..filling me inside, amid a dark firmament outside. With this heavy stillness..aimless, I wander into silent prayer to a distant star...may a single wish be granted to any, such as I, if per chance, a luminous guardian should happen to feel my gaze upon its star

 "Beautiful star before my eyes, your colors wax and wane from red to faint green and blue. I wonder upon this silent it true? my way is already laid before my feet..or may I choose, unfettered by the darkness of my own fixed nature, and relieved from the burden of its traditional become of creation, and boundless as creation is, lifting the veil of the womb, to see a larger world, and feel all that my darkness would otherwise feed upon, and consume into forgetfulness

 "May I wish upon this dark night for rebirth?!..away from traditions empowered to imprison spirit, and toward special days and nights when I may feel everything as it is, and become, what I simply touch and feel there

 "May I choose my own path? where I am free from the darkness of my own fettered nature..relieved from the burden of its dark become of creation, for moments I would cherish, lifting the veil of the see greater horizons, and feel all that I would otherwise feed upon, and consume into forgetfulness

 "May I wish for rebirth?...for the freedom to separate myself from any tradition, whose eternity I do not wish to be here and now, in this earthen haven, in this heaven where I may deeply feel this creation, and become simply, what I touch and feel there..for surely, life cannot be so incidental, as to settle for the diversions of wine and flesh, filling the wants of crippled imagination, flowering and flourishing as the still nights within the centers of its fragrant blossoms beckons all into its uncertain depths"

 All and everything, nearby and far distant, a pleasant repose I feel. So muted, for love then! I freed from this strange darkness I released from some predestined feeling with a bit of love reaching. With a wealth of time, to simply be, and live a bit of eternity, or many of I live, life to life, between them

29  Truth is rock, born from molten cauldrons deep within Earth, and under the skies, it becomes rugged, rigid, and stark..but like the rock that lays by the sea, or under a river running over, truth worn smooth becomes wisdom, silent and luminous under a distant full moon

 Integrity of truth may be seen in the arbors, as they recover their posture from prevailing spirits over land and sea

 Enduring truth is present within desert megalithic flora, against torrid time standing fast, facing all horizons over which twilight and dawn eternally pass

 Truth is also like the wind, always in motion, always changing, and by it, the spirit of a flower is seen. It is bright. Its fragrance, sweet and good

 Autumn leaves are falling. That is truth. They defy great Earth by falling in their own fashion, in their own time. The cooling sun slowly setting, is truth. The leaves of autumn imperceptibly changing, is truth. The dark sleep under blankets of snow, quilted by crystal clear brooks, flowing toward dreams of long warm days..truth is

30  South of the northwind, there is no gentle warmth nor peace in life...only the barren mountains high, and ghost waters a'far. Here, in the midst of this bleak forsaken place, of hard baked clay and radiant heat rising from ancient sand and rock, freedom abounds as far as one can see, the eternal in everything, everywhere

 And arising suddenly, unexpectedly, is another oasis, a little Eden, where sweet shade readily consumes lost spirit, and delicate waters refresh a wandering soul

 When alien winds descend low from high above, they sweep down upon sand'barren land to simply be its truth, over land and sea. Its edge assaults flesh like the pricks of a thousand needles, and the thousand stars at night mark the way south..for by the morning of the days we travel, there is a large arrow made of stones upon the ground. A star speaks, and great mountain peaks are marked, and today we know our way

 Brief reprieves from abandoned joy, set song and dance upon gentle winds. For a moment, our heart feels strength, and the many songs harmonize until they disappear into the darkness of this land around us, into the void of barren sand and dust

 Far from the civilized crowds maddened with spoils of want, from its darkness we run. Into the deserts, we venture. Within an oasis, we feel gentle coolness, the sweet rush of a desert whisper through the shade of a palm, as it reddens the sun into a cool glow. The deep within, draws nigh, and we are moved there, remembering distant gods, and their towers so high

 We roam from city to city, from tower to tower, each claiming to link heaven and Earth. I have been upon their peaks, feeling illusion upon illusion, isolation within isolation..feeling redemption upon descension to the earthen floor..always moving from generation to generation, from oasis to oasis..feeling always, the delicate pervasive entity in every bit of substance, in every substance of life. In every substance, there is life, for everything is radiant and alive. Above and everywhere around, are the powers..the father'god of light, the mother'goddess of Earth. These powers, sovereign rulers say, beget them, for them to rule the common and wise

 Why therefore?..defend any banner of thought..for vacant, and in the end..vain, does a ruler maintain and persist for power. Why work hard for one's own gain?..for when the fruits of labor become noticeable, they are readily plucked and devoured by would'be gods. So this fate has been, so the masses has been the meek knows this Earth well, given this day, given the work and the wind to soothe the pain. So it was, that life's spirit having grown old in youth, laid in the shade beside some wretched earthbound creature, knowing little more than pleasures of flesh, and cycles of hunger and sleep. For what do we have left in the end!..but to be entertained in some way, and become evermore darkened by the empty aftermaths of temporal pleasures

 So were the bitters given, were the pinnacles of vanity strengthened, was a grain of sand more enlightened!..did relentless self'reflection perceive its dark face upon still waters, and the wine jars were filled when a pouch of gold was found upon a wasted body, or when a woman's willingness suddenly arose to give her flesh freely for yours. We laid with spirits spent in self'conscious stillness. Gripped by faint fear, alien motion everywhere! So many things, so faraway from my own Will, that I wondered how anything could possibly exist! Out of control..still and silent, I was hung in some dim grey. Only faintly, could I sense anything around me. So far away from despotic rule I must, I sought to be a greater vision, one that sets me free..some certainty that calms, the ever'uncertainty, I am

 The sun will always rise, the moon will always glow, the tides will always change, the stars will always be slow. Autumn birds fly away, autumn leaves fly to stay, the stars will always blink..innocence will always be pink. The rain will always fall, the winds will always bend..the trees will always be tall, the clouds will always float, the seas will always rise, the mountain will always climb..the owl, will always be wise. The hills will always roll, space will always be cold, an empty nest..always looks old. The sky will always be blue, the eagle will always be bold, a brook will always trickle..and streams will flow smoothly..and gracefully to the sea. The bee will always work, the spider will always wait, the fly will seek the light..shadows will always be late. Humor will always warm, a heart always beating. The hand always cools, from a mind always thinking. Valleys will always protect, sadness always seems darker..peace always a center, no matter how much solitude may be felt. Rushes turn green from what always feels wet, the fish will always swim, the sun will always set. Blossoms always turn, before autumn leaves begin to fall. And mountains always a sky, very tall. Wisdom will always follow, beaten hearts ladened with sorrow. The moon will always glow...the tortoise..will always be slow

 For even in the night, when the bright luminous glow is present, when the light of day had been given so rivers would sparkle within..when inflamed emotion raged, when the sage once spoke of those empty gestures, wandering around illusions fostered by scrawlly grubs of fear upon a desert floor..I roamed incessantly within, and traveled upon journeys, unknowing where they will end. Restless, yet unmoving, youth's light shines briefly. Looking back painfully, swiftly, I sought some oasis within, upon a desert gripped with drought, upon some bright vision that once had been where words shined...where desire sparkled like bright glittering waters, and demands came from alien powers...embittered and sad was I, seeing so much indifference toward un'named flowers

 Forgotten, in solace..abandoned in all directions, there is nothing but vanishing horizons..for no fair way of life is there, it seemed, except those leading into some pit, where some heavy whip ruled with no grain of grit, nor gram of wit. Vacant within, I feel. Where has feeling gone? that I should aimlessly wander within this chamber that is my head..and wonder if my life has been but fragile illusion..delicate dreams. Is this what life is? have every joy, every awakening, every pleasure scattered into some dark void, where all is suspended and still..wandering upon dusty old paths, made rutted with heavy feet and hollow heart. Is this what is left?..after so much has been seen and felt! To see the light penetrate through the open passageways of the clouds?..and feel no more or less, than the darkness cast by its side

 Where does the hawk go? its apparent freedom, but after some aspect of appetite. Or of all around me that I see living in continuous want. My darkness is an indefinite night waiting for dawn..a dawn I sense faraway..far beyond my resignation today...of grapes and wines, of warm fragrant flesh. In the solitudes of distant songs, I dream to root this restless spirit, for my spirit to rest

31  Throughout the distant past since the beginning of the word, symbolic sound became symbolic image. Images were sown in ordered rows, set upon pressed hides or flatten reeds, or hammered into stone, or baked in clay. Like the fields, they were cultivated through generations, as generations of dreams proceed

 As golden words binding scattered ends of emotion, I am set indelibly in memory, building and adding to itself seasonally, like shedding leaves becoming fertile ground, from which new words inevitably spring and live! a child, independent in sound, but dependent upon so much else around

 Feeling their meaning, divinities of light arise..even if one was to only turn the pages and behold the ordered arrangement of its packets of light! Within them, within structures of thought, the common and individual qualities of a word are carefully cultivated, arranged, and place together upon leaves aside leaves..into pages upon pages, bits of light are, as all words can only be, some delicate reflection of being, so profoundly less than what is, and so easily best, a reflection, a crude construct of what lives

 For all that lives!..the Earth turns, and the seed is given. From heaven the waters seep, the Earth will keep, and the spirit will rise. The rains will pass, and the Earth will sow, and within creation's womb, we are, for two full moons, pruning the vine for wine..for sweet water's fire of youth

 Aye!! Winter rain..spring showers, aestival glow..we know the Earth will keep the fertile seed, and the seed will grow. Aye! We hear the chant. We laugh. We hear the cries. I feel the eternal, in all that lives and dies

 The purposes by which one may live, as deep as they may be, are subject to random, yet through time, balancing forces. Forces that produce upon a windless doldrum sea, the rhetoric of spontaneity, or notions connected only by the unseen regions of one's own being. The reason of such darkness lays beyond the light through which I within a world that I, by myself, do not wholly conceive. Therefore, let spirit be whatever it may, as aimless winds over an ocean course, with no feeling or thought rehearsed, revised, or re'chosen, under the auspices of a single notion..for the purposes of prevailing darkness, conquering dreams, and pleasant movements of unconnected themes

32  Dark space. Gleaming twilight. Glimmering night. The waters of the sea are transfigured instantly by radiant light of day. Cool blueness of a clear sky! The moon quietly wavers upon the dark mirror of still waters. Storm clouds brood when a feeling left alone too long, finds itself suddenly exposed and disconnected. Identity and purpose. Its heart...could it only be simple emotion?..what has been set in motion by anger, what has been sweetened by joy. A flower is trampled into the mud, and out of the mud, a lotus springs. And the cool white snow, and the clean drifts of void, and the shifting wind, renew well'traveled hills and valleys within. And the aestival festival celebrates new life where cool..pristine pools of springtime melt gather, and down the valley they move. Fathered by the rainbow, the waters gather, and within the inescapable grasp of the earthen body, they are pulled from the sky, and from mountains high, are pulled again into rivulets, moving through, coursing around, flowing over and under..finding each other in streams..resting in lakes and quiet ponds..moving as river rapids..above ground, under  hills, into estuaries, bays, and seas..surging and ebbing as the tides of the moon, constantly changing, urging, be more depth and breath so the rain may be more intensely felt..feeling its delicate essence enveloping me..surrounding me, the fragrance of evergreen, embracing me...the gentle moss, the sweet grass intertwine to form an intricate carpet upon the floor, and the clear sky above, becomes an open window through which, ancient images of distant places pass. Above, in the night, the cool twinkling lights from the past can only be imagined touching skin. Yet, with a slight assist, so much within, can be so readily aroused and moved. For every memory of the past, there is a haunting. For new seasons, there are renewed celebrations. For every moment, an emotion turns occult. Of life, the compulsion, the dark compelling drive to survive, likens itself to the incessant wind..a'constantly moving from tree tops to mountain peaks..seeking, forming, reshaping...being reshaped, ever flowing, always feeling..enduring, always striving..for no more reason than to be. Hardships are so readily endured for the prospect that enough time is leftover to harvest the fermenting enjoy and preserve the delight of distractions and variations of thought and transform a tree into an image of 'the many into one' of its occult side, or 'one into the many' of its illuminated side..or a horse into a savior with wings, or another with a horn to protect the innocent. far have we evolved indeed!..that we may see these things..that we may have the time to relish and treasure, sensations of enlightenment..of the morning dawn, cool sparkling frost upon grass..upon quiet reeds of a misted pond, where I am deeply mollified by its dark the lark arises, slowly rising..gaining speed and control, as I slowly spiral, higher and higher..rising high above the earthen floor, I look down...there are no boundaries..gliding, descending, gliding, ascending..turning, spiraling toward the only home I know..within a melody, within a song..for so great is the world of spirit! So great is this realm of space. From the small so far down..from the large beyond, from far away beyond me..from the deep within, I anticipate, I dream..but I know not, whether it be fantasy or future reality..or something ghostly that must become real. Another part always belongs to all that is around, making future and past dreamlike. So isolated from, so entangled with convolutions of light am I, that I have aimlessly wandered between opposing beliefs with equal stations, and opposing emotions..spirits with no name deranged by one or the other with the notion to be both. Between two extremes, I am bilateral and endowed with a dichotomy..a right brain and a left one. Two. One or the other. More often one over the other. One for 'we,' and the other for 'I'..there are only two ways to survive. Each mutually exclusive, each striving to be ever'ready, ever'sharp..when to be port, when to list starboard upon a wide sargasso sea, and endure those moments when massive inner worlds in collision do battle. But on the brink of extinction, a feeling is not forgotten, for so readily do I change, if in return, there is some chance for a new sensation. With perception narrowed or broadened as need be, change only as necessary, I am compelled to continue to be within an alien world knowing not, how not to be amid physical amid physical things. Yet, the sun has a beginning and end. And all life has, at the very least, some beginning and a story does. As all life uses everything within its grasp, to live some the sun no less alive!?...passive, predictable, but alive! Is the world of passive matter as much a belief construct as any I could create for myself? Is the familiar but matter self'aware, using other matter made passive by profound un'self'aware  attitudes? Am I but self'aware bits of matter!?..commanding passive elements of consciousness for my own distraction from my own imponderable self consciousness. As light is squared, self consciousness is also multiplied by itself. How easily does life spring so readily from the darkness! So readily does it boldly venture, feeling deeply, feeling vague, feeling exactly, life adapts within every fissure, every crevice of uncertainty. Tender youth. So much is new that all becomes timeless, perceiving anyone, anything as it is, like a newborn with eyes, large, open, and vacant, gazing upwards..snow flakes are wondrous..falling from a white grey abyss above..softly and quietly laying themselves down upon Earth..the ground becomes cool and silent, white and clean. And the spirits beyond, enter with each breath and becomes my spirit. The arbors drink the waters of which, all life shares..and always growing, they are yet stationary..again like the eyes of a child, all absorbing, a dreamstate deeply rooted into the darkness below, rooted deeply into the radiance above. Between these worlds of darkness and light, I know creation. I feel it within the cool shade. I feel it upon soft carpets of grass. I revere it..the Earth quaking, the wind spinning, the profound peace in between. The cold dark rain. The pelting ice stings. The living consumes the living, and the survivors protect their own. Everything is created into form, fit, and function of structures, sizes, and shapes..but the ancients arranged bones according to length and width, shape and shapelessness..according to pleasure'giving or pain'causing...useful, useless, fantasy or truth...everything and their intermediators, is perceived as a conglomerate to suite their need, layering upon itself throughout the years as easily as we breathe and eat, thirst for water, hunger for spirit..this conscious streaming, this con'streaming reveals in addition to the salt and elements that fashion our body..our body, mostly water, and more than mostly water..mostly empty space. That our salted blood is likened to the salted sea, that the metal in our blood is the heaviest sun'made, does not weaken how easily a self conscious eye can separate one from all that is. As much as all is related, all can be blotted out if need be, or knowledge readily fabricated to serve the emotional need of the inventor, for the cause and effect of a coincidence shall artificially connect, when desire for greater power over'rides intellect. Aye! is true! Someone obscure, will capture and sustain a genuine insight. Yet, soon after, the rapture fades, but the power of insight makes new light within, and the bearer forever changes. Power of persona or enlightenment? With personna, realms become smaller, because the instinct to survive, has shifted to the persona with limited boundaries. With enlightenment, realms become larger because the reality to which they belong, has no boundaries. With enlightenment, the truth bearer will seek a greater context for truth, and sustain it, and enjoy it, and position it with the rest of the treasures, carefully apprehended and arranged throughout celestial space and time into massive existential spirits amid great spans of peace and relative states of consciousness, and the sensual moods having evolved through them, foster the dimensions of the living through what earthly mind perceives. A kitten attacks a moving piece of string. A dog chases its phantom tail snake. Or a child is startled by its own creeping shadow. How resolute may the confinement of perception be! Is what lives, reveals itself also? by simply being in much within the spanse of a few seconds..when the mind decides to collate a multitude of sensations before seeing..for within the world of perception, there are untold numbers of "I" through which, sensations perceive. The isolated "I." The un'named, unqualified, existing as it can only be, relative to its surroundings, according to its nature. I feel the preponderance of infinite everything, the alpha..and then feel utter nothingness, the omega thereafter. So the un'named says of itself, 'I am that I am.' 'I am,' the alpha and the omega...eternity and nothingness, the symbiotic one. In that instant, utterly alone, nothingness in eternity spontaneously becomes light. So why then, are the days of genesis measured by the days of humankind?! Are humans so egocentric and vainglorious that they must measure a day's work of the eternal creator with a single spin of Earth? Is the love of mythic power so consuming that only one turn is imaged? Where is the light and mirror through which one's self can be perceived? What composition of glass must be? through which one can truly see. What compels one to be the center? of all that be. What compels one to lose one's self? in the midst of all that is. Where are the wise?..when all experience the same fear. Where is the sage?..when all feel the same sorrow, or resolved to the same impending doom. Is an insect munching on a leaf so different from my own need to sup? Or the tree taking from we must. And the ideal!!...what a rogue! So vitally necessary, so difficult to separate one's self from..for once an ideal has become greater than life, so do those who are only their ideals, and so readily do ideals, un'self'aware, become disappointed, and attempt to upload its dark resentment into other minds in the form of some over'lording word, some imperial vision..conceptions of evil, and its minions, fear and hate, through which, the world, they can emotionally negotiate..and as their darkness wanes late, their shadow grows taller..but soon, in their confinement, it becomes apparent that the faults they call out on a broken horizon, merely outline the sun, setting on them. With the absence of sun and presence of cold, the arbors' sensitive green reddens from isolation, and the Earth receives them. Dissolving, they become one..with all and everything. Passive bits of matter, unselfaware, already knowing. The tree is ready to sleep. Self aware, we do not know and continue to seek,  and after a passage through winter's snow peaks, life springs! The rains gather more dust of Earth, and the leaves form again under a radiant sun from what was dissolved before. The sun penetrates the green, and fruit replicates more  life and more green. And the rains gather more dust,  and the leaves radiantly shine. The sun deeply penetrates,  and fruit is abundant. And the rain carries the dust from  autumn leaves, far and wide. The flowers blossom and  fruit ripens, and the dust is taken up from the Earth to become again, bright new leaves. Self'aware light, having long since passed into its own shadow, returns a'new..when desire rules, and self righteousness becomes heavy, requiring suitable wine, and silent song. Truth un'tempered with time becomes like a rock fettered to the passing of days and nights without context. Into dim mornings, truth is hungover, because it did not awaken to itself. In the morning, afternoon, nor in the evening, did anything separate itself, from itself. By midnight, the silence and darkness makes no demands, and I, reclined..ponder vacantly until I become accustomed to the darkness, for divided in darkness, I readily absorb the night with lingering twilight shutting out painful dawn. As the dust and waters are assembled into fragrant blossoms, fragrant color beckons life. Within the multifarious derangements of dust bearing earth, decaying twigs, and pieces of straw..from minute amorphous rock and crumbling leaves, from the wondrous, shapeless chaos of random bits of matter do the orders of life spring. From disconnected feelings and aimless moods, out of the muck of unconnected thought, does life spring, does an inspiration become a lotus, a wild thing with upper and lower sensual thresholds, and I perceive through them, only a very small portion of creation. My touch and taste..sight and sound are but portals into manifest creation. Through them, I live now. Transcending them, I sense a'new. Denying them, I simply exist 'as is' from some past dimming. As the Earth turns and the seasons change, living dream'states call Sun and Earth, home. As the light radiates blue, yellow, and red, living dream'states evolve through cycles of growth, conservation, and decay, and inevitably, in dark eternity, a scepter is given to a dark warrior armed and ready to wage war..but no one knew that a war was declared. No one knew when the ideal became disappointed and armed, but it soon became apparent when the apocalypse was not confined to within, when love and life became occult and barren, when the world became points, planes, and vectors of energy..unknowing what is within from what is without..seeking in desperation, some union with a greater violence do the darkly polarized seek themselves, canonizing the motes in their eye, and setting them upon missions throughout their realms of fear and hate. Yet, even for a dark warrior, there is a place in its edge. A place where the Earth is barren, where bleached sand drifts lean toward the shores of ghostly lakes. A watery, wavering mirage..a haven where dark warriors are soothed by the steady flow of rising heat. They are relaxed by thorny cactus and dry scrubby bushes, and tumbling weeds, and dust'bearing wind. They are calmed by the hot stillness and bleached rock, or by the bitter cold of night during winter's stay. They are at peace with all that is intense and fearless. Vipers, lizards, and venomous spiders, and scorpions..all living ruthlessly, struggling for themselves and their own kind. Such vainglorious warriors are comforted by jackals, varmints, and treacherous scavengers. They love the spirit of the wolf. They know the burrowing weasel and the vultures high in the sky, patiently waiting nearby, for some flesh to become abandoned carrion. Indeed!..there is a paradise in creation for the warrior, sired by desert heat and barren snow fields. Within those fields, self light is equipped for isolation, no matter how small or large, with the Will to'be reaching beyond itself, only  when necessary, to touch, to hear and see more. But what if an entity of evolution's epoch should actually appear? whose life is so long that it can clearly recall the beginning of the sun and its vast galaxy..and be so vividly sensitive that it can draw up from memory, enough detail to answer any question about past or future. Say such an entity should appear among us, and dwell for us....what would we become? with one who knows more than our imagination could ask. With such an entity ever ready to give true light to any question that one could imagine, there would be no frontiers of thought, and work would not be needed..except what we might mull, for the sake of restoring feeble Will. Where would the sensation of life go?..with such an omniscient soul. Past nor future need not be remembered or imagined, for any question posed, would be answered with lasered light. Any misunderstanding?...ask the lord! Any problems, any needs whatsoever...the lord will provide. With such an overlord, there would be no darkness by which we can mystery, no movement into a greater care, but for an occasional empty fair way of life, given a fixed past, and absolute future light. Nothing but the finality of a benevolent keeper serving all needs, eliminating all darkness, programming all deeds. In this existence that death could not change, nor sleep relieve..from such a benevolent entity serving so completely, would I ask reverently, through its ominous power..for its absence, and a bit of ignorance, a place to live it, and wholeheartedly receive the blessings that ignorance has to offer, there'after

33  The heavens above, at night, are occulted by scattered dust clouds. Only a few blinking points of light can be seen where the dust is not. And I feel drawn. My mind is lured by the darkness there. A single point appears. A very small, perfectly shaped one that I know cannot be physical, nor have any dimensions of its own. Yet, how am I able to conceive such perfection? having arisen from the imperfect dust of Earth. Other points appear. Apparitions aligning themselves without deviation until they become so close that this perfecting eye sees only a straight line..without any deviation whatsoever! The line, solid and straight, is within rigidly fixed space, and another line appears and passes through the first, passing a single immeasurable point. Another line appears, and many others pass through the same point until the lines abruptly disappear and become a plane. A plane is conceived. As a new dimension of thought, it has the thickness of the un'measureable point and inscrutable line. It has no thickness, but nevertheless is. From another direction, a duplicate plane passes through the first to make a form. A form is conceived. The forms are moved into all directions at any rate, or rate of change..all shapes and sizes, static or changing, having exact absolute dimensions without any deviation, and a form in motion is conceived. Without substance..they nevertheless are! Of substance and no'thing, I am. Substance imperfect..perfect nothingness! Perfectly I this dichotomy of mind?..a window through which, a portion of creation is perceived? This dichotomy thinking, ponders on itself, for while points compounded into dimension can only frame the physical..the physical can only approximate what numbers perfect. What gradient? creates this sense of unerring perfection. For the universe to be, upper and lower thresholds of senses, must also be. And from the margins of error these senses bring, does the very large idealizes the very small? Does the very small  conceptualize the very large? Is it, from the very large and the very small brought together, from diminishing margins of sensual desire?..that the mind and its absolutes spring

34  What are you doing here, in the midst of winter? The first snow has arrived..yet, you remain. I feel your color, and relish the pleasure, but there is now, only cold winter's spirit around you. All others have long since disappeared with the first frost..yet, you remain. Winter flower so pleasing to the eye, there is only the howling scowling winds for you, and the harsh bitter cold of winter nights. Tiny twinkling crystals of sleepy thought, silently float down from above, gently laying down, laying life down to rest within aestival dreams. remain. In this frigid stillness, you insist, you persist, holding fast to another time, whose time has long since passed

 A winter flower defies its time in front of an abandoned house, old with outside boards weather worn to the grain. Its family last, now past, a vacant house living bare. Within a barren room inside, brilliant yellow flows boldly through dust'hazed window panes..and a fly seeing its god, frantically attempts to penetrate the invisible barrier. Faint opaque particles are lazily suspended in the midst of the room, as though carried by the brilliant light beaming through naked arbors. Upon the floor, warm stillness penetrates a worn empty chair..and except for an occasional frantic buzzing, only stillness occupies this shanty place that once served so well

 This abandoned place, so thoroughly lived, was lived to exhaustion. Cracked and spinter'd. Sharp edges worn smooth, like ancient rock by an ancient sea, by simple life once lived..pleasant daily routines, structured by resolute tradition. Deep within the womb of nature, they lived, and from the dust that now lives here, I hear its faint voice echo

 "As we wander, we see far'off, for our home is where we freely dance and sing as our ancient forefathers did. With the earthen foundation beneath us, we are deep within creation, ready to move to wherever our tradition may live. Our children's children will learn that a house, or even a piece of land is but a rest'stop, a wayside attraction of our journey..for the universe is in ceaseless motion, and all substance, transient possession

 "There was a rumble outside..and there were people yelling and shouting. Impending danger. The noise of a large crowd was getting louder, and there were many horses and carriages approaching. Suddenly, one of the windows broke with a loud crash, and then another, and then, there was breaking glass tinkling everywhere. There was heavy coarse commands outside. The edge of profanity and chaos, penetrated deep into everything around

 "And we had to ask, we needed to know. What made these invaders so deeply afraid? How could our peace cause this?..for are we not, only onto ourselves? Our goods and services are only for you. We ask only..that we be left alone

 "From outside, we saw the temple torched, and our books tossed out and burned. The fire stretched'out through the windows into the night. We watched wild anger rampaging, feverishly and violently attack old pages of books..a penny's worth of ink holding a vast treasure of light for us...only useless vellum for them

 "We were being attacked. Amid the death, a deep cry, a dulling pain..dazed, we fell to the spell of this violent spectacle. This dark night made darker by terror. Timber crackling..words burning, friends slaughtered and bleeding in the street. Into the red flickering shadows, we retreat. The temple and books turning to ash. The mysterious leader of the marauding mob approached with blazing eyes. His hair was bristling with fire and ice, and by its angry light, from high upon his horse, without hesitation, he trampled a sage who was bending over to pickup a book

 "Powerless and with no opportunity to understand, the fire of hate burns, but we leave unscorched, for we do not curse and hate the violent storms of the seas, nor raging pyroclastic magma consuming stately dreams. We do not hate the cold blizzards that freeze time, nor sultry drought, sucking spirit from life'giving thought. this violence any different than rocks tumbling down upon a mountain pass?..or any different than flooding rivers, giving far more than what the living needs?..or any creature of the wood invading a new territory, attacking the indigenous there where they stood, for what they cultivated, what they could through a generation, or even many of them. By their own hate, they have reduced themselves to simple abrasive winds upon a desert plain. Violent night, dark inquisition..cindered rubble, broken glass..a disaster that shall return, if we remain

 "In the hour of our departure, we feel radiant beams of the morning sun penetrate the silence. Our hearts mourn, yet this destruction around us, is of 'all and everything,' and only with 'all and everything' do we atone. We are hung low in sorrow. We are cast down into the mourning snow..until, into our gaze did a flower beam. A blossom had somehow survived. A dream, out of its time, survived"

35  Beyond our eyes and ears, deep within substance is order and disorder. Between chaos and rigid form am I, within the deep of matter, bits of star, am I law and rebellion to law. Wills in opposition, in mutual exclusion, each with its own spirit, and the spirits become a rock, and the rocks congregate into great mountains jutting up to the heavens, to the stars from which they came..and from its height, do restless waters stream, flowing fast or slow from its source..gathering, separating, and re'gathering throughout its course

 Upon a river bank, a tree reaches outward with its roots deep into the ground, and up from the trunk, branches and leaves reachout to the air for what is there. From this tree, an eagle arises upon a wind, and looking down, sees a tree..reaching with its roots deep into the sea, and up through the river, streams, and rivulets, climbing the mountain for what is there

 Rising high with the ethers from the seas, the spirit of the eagle rests easily upon a gentle breeze, for this spirit is high..aloft..easily turning, any direction..and being of the wind, the wind freely courses..swiftly moving..and in an instant, stalling and falling, its wings extend to catch the wind..and when an overbearing spirit insists upon the direction of its course, only the eagle will prevail, rising higher, seeing greater..resting, gliding, round and round, spiraling gently toward the ground

 To feel as the eagle sees, I too, readily ascend upon the first wind, for only mountains with frozen peaks, or gales motivating the swells of a flooding tide, or great vortices of whirling wind, spinning destruction inside, can stop this freedom. Only by the extremes of nature can the eagle be bound..but even bound, the spirit of the eagle continues to soar. Feeling as the eagle sees, I fly high upon every thought born free, for no where in this world, so coarse or fine, can true freedom be..but in mind

36  While this stone is very hard, it rapidly softens to an inquisitive mind. And made of many species of matter, and as unyielding as it can be, water it may contain and suspend in time, the essential awareness that all life needs. And within the universe of this quiet substance, this stone, known as the philosopher's stone, appears as a commonplace and dull dormancy of time, only to awaken and shine! the brilliant, the colors radiant, whenever any new philosophy, becomes apparent

37  Returning in circles of time, it recalls old laughs or adventures from the past. Through it, hollow'd time is felt from the ghosts of mis'placed dreams. Its spirit may linger, but only as light dimming, growing dimmer, where a well'worn path had grown thinner. As a hidden treasure, it quietly lays..only to spring awake by a place, a word, an whatever may happen with some glimmering aspect, of what had once happened. And resting upon paths that wynd through life, it readily disappears when the future is clear, or the past with misgivings. But even with tears that have a slight edge of regret, misted, or stricken sad, it inevitably reappears..and from its 'eternal return,' the mind can madden, but just as easily, suddenly brighten, when the same tears suddenly sweeten

38  From below an uncertain horizon, it rises bright upon the rim, crosses over to disappear at the other end. As a radiance serving life, being the simplest of substance, companionship is restricted only, to elements of itself. Darkness says 'it cannot be everywhere,' but it tries, being a propagator of space that its captured matter occupies. While time has but little presence within its essence, by it, eyes are gifts through which, in the misty sky, a heven'bowe displays its inner nature

39  Captured by it, a sea was seduced from beyond, and by this affair, the tides of the sea, we see. With unebbing motion, it moves to bring special moments within the dimness of evenings, where everyone may see by the gleam of silvery water streams, or bluish sheen of dark obscure arbors. As it labors through the pitch of night, a cool incandescent glow is passed from the farside of Earth, as yellow'silver of a brilliant globe lays blue'grey upon everything, everywhere. Listening carefully, shadows of its gentle light are silent, dark, and deep. Silver'lined clouds are high, and day life is soothed, because its velvet light is soft to the skin, having been renewed from a deep umbro'd night

40  Arriving as steady light in the dark of night, they will faintly blink and later fade from the dint of day. Many sizes are they. Some radiant, some dim..passing slowly across the black sky, and returning the following night, they seem to forever stay. A display of figures and figurines are they, all made of light, of near past and distant past, and those that streak the sky are really not, what they seem. Yet, upon one that is genuine, if that one should capture an on'looker's gaze, the heavens permit one wish if their colors can be seen, for they will always remain forever bright, under the blanket of night, having long since passed into the midst of a dream

41  Turning with precision in rhythm around the sun..tilting toward, positioned away, the living upon its surface arise and sleeps, lives and passes'on with day's bright and night's deep..blending rare elements of the universe plenty, making a fair haven for all the living. Nearly upon a circular path slow, it harbors all that will live and grow. Like a perfect globe it is shaped, and because it turns on its own, we know day to be both dark and light. From some place distant, if it is seen, its quiet moon feels deep blue and soft white.  To embrace it, lay prone with ear upon the ground, and with outstretched arms, feel its aura glow in the midst of starlight's eternal night

42  Moving everywhere, the flora bends to its mighty blow. Through valleys it flows, from mountain peaks it speaks..across vast plains, it causes tall grass to appear like gentle swells of a sea. It moans and groans within the deep of night..and to know it, by the light of a glowing full moon, be still and silent..and with luminescence cupped in hands..and with a whisper and subtle hiss, feel its gentle caress

43  High to the stars, it rises from an infernal cauldron that is a part of a large intense heart, and for all, the cauldron beats through eons to some obscure rhythm. Veins of fire are hidden within its body, and as a citadel of power, it is usually nearby a sea. When the cauldron beats, great fiery bodies of light and heat are hurtled into the sky, to make rivers of fire flow, and its body glows and grows throughout the radiance of day and darkness of night. With cool winds and time, it becomes larger and larger. Higher and higher it rises until rain becomes snow..and over the perennial white so high are the voices of the wind blowing higher over its peak, as to say..."It is the only tower in creation, that may be seen from a distant horizon! be disturbed, only when it must grow, to otherwise reside boldly, without explanation, before anyone's eyes that behold creation"

44  Swiftly moving, at one with the wind, only when divided does it brighten. Quietly, in ceaseless motion, when it weeps, so happy from freedom, its tears become the blood of the living. Giving darkly, always with a silver lining, desert Edens spring from its presence. Its lofty spiritual manner may swirl in great violent vortices, sucking up anything in its way far below. As it rises boldly to itself in the sky, its deep is not so easily aroused..but when it is!..its force is great, as great as the command of shifting Earth, its turbulence and violence, surrounding a clear calm center. Like the spirit of the wind, it dies as readily, as it lives. It is essential, but elusive to the touch. Intimately always needed, yet often not appreciated, while serving by suspending and bearing what it is not. Born to wander, life seeks to live nearby, to feel it, freely passing'by. And the Earth will always surrender to its gentle persuasion while it travels freely as it might..every day, every night

45  Within two worlds, its body dwells. Dividing and re'dividing, it reaches into one that is always dark, and into the other where there is light. Where darkness is, many fingers grow with delicate hairs unseen, reaching for the water it needs, and within the substance of Earth, its body will grow, upon mountains and throughout the valleys, far below. It holds together, the Earth and the Sun, and while it continues to breathe, the sun, the Earth, and waters are always the means by which it is known as first life, and the estate of dreams

46  It can live only alone, but constantly seeks company. It exists invisibly, yet needs a mirror..looking everywhere, seeing only itself, it recognizes none but itself, as its own peer

47  Even though fragile, it is always out front. Always shining, it will always assure, yet more glossy than wise and demur. It is strong, it will stand'fast against any wind..rigid, solid..not inclined to bend. A progeny of vanity, an off'spring of triumph! It is first to shine bright, being always inclined, towards vainglorious light

48  Stubborn and immovable, it is darkly rooted. Seeds of despair it will sow, of itself it must know. Self'impassioned, representing itself as soul, it is strong, but only when collectively commissioned. Always saying, "I know," and seeing only through some inflexible notion, always mistakes cynicism for wisdom. With ears muffled and eyes fixed, it lives without context. As the nemesis of the righteous, its opinions are not cautious, not even for the apparent to be somewhat reverent

49  It seeks the glitters of gold, but saddened when gained, and craves the glories of triumph, yet resigned to despair no matter how high up. Bold in disrepair, in dark stillness, it will always be shy, while staring at life, passing'by

50  Deeper than the darkest void, it consumes more than the fire of the sun. And raging as a storm within an empty heart, the mind becomes a furnace, for it surely loves beauty and carnal passion, yet readily devours beauty's substance, as it always hungers beyond sensation

51  Hidden desire that only creates greater desire, its treasure rises to become a mountain. High into the sky the treasure will gain, a peak from which, blindness looks for the most precious. Becoming lost, a timeless ghost, it is always in want, only for that which makes it more gaunt

52  Sharper than any knife could be, it makes the mind eat first, what fear conjures most. Enshrouding the soul with voids, the mind becomes mad'stricken, the heart sickened, the soul..grief'ridden. Burning and void'centered, eyes to fire, one to ice. It has no substance, yet can turn the living into a thing

53  Restricted in body, it exists only in mind. It is sensed between peaks of laughter, or between tears when sadness remains thereafter. It is seen in an arbor bending to the wind, and like the wind, it may always be. We may notice it, having more than one direction to move, moving as we wish around some law immovable. Under its influence, the seas become like mountains, and great mountains crumble and become suspended within vast seas. Through it, there is always a prospect for a new song. And often longed for, by the young in heart, it has been known as a song, a silent prayer, or the parent of an original thought. So close to what we essentially are, it often lingers beyond immediate sight..but precious within, dim or bright, it can be made of anything!..even darkness or light

54  It is hidden as often as it is not. Allusive by hiding, and hiding as the obvious, it is sometimes bold, sometimes cautious. Has no substance, yet is priceless. Ready to serve, always working, it becomes darker when its convolutions become greater. Its power can turn eyes inward or outward. Courage is required. Its lover is Time within its universe, the mind. Its body, a vision. Its shadow, a question. It speaks without reservation, and offers itself as the final arbitration and warrant...even though to itself, it be only apparent

55  With fiery assertion of what is true, it has been known to speak unknowing how deep, tongue was imbedded in cheek. Compelled to seek, running towards a cliff's edge to be free, wandering in any direction, it lives tall and thin without sight or sensation. Seeking..searching..running from eternity, its sense of impending doom lives desperate, impoverished of Will..for it has wandered backwards and forwards in time, enduring the nagging voids, daring not to enter, knowing that some emptiness, some eternity, something unfathomable is there. Even the light, it may dread, and only by challenge, will it die, and after all being said, if to no avail or reply, each tear, a moment of eternity, it must bear

56  It lays or stands..stoic, silent with no motion nor life, unless there is learning. Suspending time and dis'belief, or using time to guide, and belief to hide, it often entertains when its smallest parts, rigid and unyielding, blend to alive! For of it, some is new, and some is borrowed. Sorrows, delights, enlightenments..a few of its ingredients. Some are old..very old, but this only inspires the new to be bold, so it may say of itself...”all was told, that could be told”

57  And I knew I would be forever changed, once I enter, dispelling fear, comprehending these words that I would indefinitely bear, apprehending time, its nature..of time present, past, and future

 It has rhythm and melody without making a sound, and knowledge of its ways is rarely known. It may move backwards or forwards while always uncertain, and can be measured by any event, only if it happens the same, again and again. With a starting point that always becomes the past, it moves both slow, and often very fast. Imperceptibly it may stand still having no substance..yet, it is among the greatest treasures that one may have. Many have given a king's ransom for just a small measure of its nature. Through it, freedom is felt...the rivers, and oceans, and whole universes that would otherwise remain obscure, when magic and fate rule. Sometimes blue, sometimes bright, it is in common with all things perceived to happen..only to, in that happening, somehow disappear. Where adventure arises and passes in an instant, where a thought is difficult to keep...colors, fragrances, and sounds are vivid and deep. The overlord here is joy and laughter, and all innocents love this place because life is, adventure. Without measure, it moves, making everything seem to suddenly appear. The spirit soars here with the lightness of heart, and the mind is hungry, touching, seeking the next adventure to start. It is where affections freely express, for affections are the waters that allow love to season strongly. And so strong is this place, that only sleep has been known to end it...yet, even in sleep, it may awake from the wake of what traveled through the day. In the absence of this place so precious, the moon in return, will appear radiant and full..heart and imagination, out of control! With ears wide and open, and eyes large and silent, this place having spoken, enters forever a dark quiet..where many legends are told about it. Some are true. Many are not. It always lingers as memory, sometimes clear, sometimes not. Bitterness or love may spontaneously emerge from it. With it, some hope waiting for the circumstances of sentiment, and others come to enlightenment about what lays no light except what a single eye can see, or will see..and as uncertain as it often seems to be, many nevertheless go there, to live and dwell where they wish within its dimly lit caverns. And many are ruled by those vague, ethereal, and often eerie apparitions which are better off remaining as sustenance of the mystic..for from here, is where mystique gathers its magical power, where all things fade into conjecture, where all search for those beliefs that they want to forever hold, and fantasies are made, about the boldness and daring of those..who had no idea how they would be set in memory! In passing, it often leaps to where dreams and aspirations are made..sometimes of hope for spirit, and for those with the Will to achieve, it is where vision lives and breathes..where the unknown within, may become known..where only prophets dare to speak, for its ways are truly mysterious. Sometimes cloudy, sometimes clear, it become more certain only when the present draws near. Courageous leaders live here, where a civilization or an entire empire is first built. Here, innocence fades whenever it is considered, and savings are made for an arrival that will never happen. It is where dreams may live bright and daring, and the imagination caring not what may arise, freely produces many wonder worlds of such fine substance, that all or any of it could disappear in a flick of an instant. Through its ceaseless nature..this elusive presence having been called by some, an invention, does seem to be alive! or at least, enhances what is alive..for if you quietly remain still, amid mundane activity, you will feel an entity always ready to change tears into a drop of sea, and through its way, to see this part of the sea, enter the earthen fingers of an be drawn'up and outward to the green of its leaves..and the turning leaves disappear into the ground, and enriching the foundation, the earthen floor becomes small blades of grass, and the grass turns, to become a creature..the end of creatures becomes the beginning of new plants and new creatures, who join others to become the waters traveling aloft to other places, where all bodies relate to other bodies..where the relation of all may be envisioned..and through a small portion of its nature, perhaps little may be seen or felt..but all that is needed to sense the pervasive delicacy of its many melodies

58  My gentle woman, if you please, I am an alien here because the place and time for what I know has yet to arrive. I sense deeply, and see the colors of your need. I sweeten from your laughter, brighten from your anger, and become the shadow of your sadness. With you, all of me lives!..past, present, and future. I often feel as a man of the sea because I am accustomed to a foundation always moving beneath my feet. And I ask you....”would you be, simply with me?” motion through the universe, upon this vessel, Earth..small and hidden among the stars, where there are great oceans of time to span. I am not regarded as wise by most..and by the values of many, most rightly so..for I do not spend time learning the weakness of others for advantage and gain. Nay..because of the nature of what I know, I am more often than not, alone among peoples..but not so with the creatures, the children, and moods of the vast spaces of darkness and light. I have come to dwell, per chance perhaps, within a larger world..most of which has rarely been seen amid many systems of suns, of stars, whose space boundaries end where space and time takes its turn inward as being. Yet, an ocean of time may pass, perhaps several times before we can be seen. And upon this sea of happenstance, and chance opportunity..of what you can be assured, I can only promise me

59  There are indeed, those who hold themselves sane, and there are those who have a'judged others to be otherwise..and there are those who would be both, as long as we have two brains..both of which, would be very busy arguing their case..and both would until one prevails somehow, and there, somewhere within the temple of thought, one cognitive Will rests with notions about states of being that distinguish the sane from the insane. Thus, there are many questions of sanity that have apparent answers, and apparent answers to such delicate questions are made easy enough. They are made in response to the manner, or style, in which the logic of argument is versed..for an argument that persists with eloquence can make the premise of common sense, irrelavent. Well..these troublesome questions concerning proper states of mind are answered by most, with convenient definitions. If a clear definition of sanity is conceived in mind, there then, is where insanity must also reside. As sanity lives, so does its doppelganger within the darkside of emotion..perhaps never seen, but always there for those intrepid sane through eons of cognitive evolution who seek to meet their dark moon upon a battle field, and plan its demise. To many, sanity appears bold, resilient, and strong..however, the gravity of logic captures me, wherein, I must admit that insanity within a rigid, logical, self'ordained sane society, is far easier to prove than sanity, and therefore must be by far, far easier to live with

60  Newborn emerging, newborn crying until first rest. And later, the best of what evolution offers perceives and feels new circumstances. Newborn living, newborn in isolation amid the many wonders of creation, the spirits there enter, and newborn eyes brighten. They were not forsaken, for newborn children of the moon..they are of the seasons, the Earth, of all that lives and grows. They know their father who is from the sun. They are enchanted and moved by his heart, the moon, for when his heart moves, his children can feel the swaying tides of mother's womb. In return for his brilliant radiance, the mother gives freely to her children of the moon, who delight beneath the heavens of their father, and live within the bosom of earthly mother. There is no faltering joy or sorrow, nor any tomorrow. There is only the father above, and mother Earth's love. The newborns live long after their spirits' beginning within their body, which inevitably returns to water, the womb of mother..and to dust, her body, and to light, back to father..only to begin again, faraway in the darkness of over'souls who dream life

61  For the rebels with a cause, these words are not a revolt and thereby revolution..not as insurrections to the learned or wise. This is a form of a testament however..of how one may begin, such as I, whenever oppositions of mind become a vise

 Within the universe, this place called Earth has been at peace with the stellar elements for many eons. Here and now, we may behold the labors of the past, simply by holding a bit of substance in our hands. We may feel the future as we envision the temple of life around us. We feel the seasons of life, we take for ourselves the products of timeless labors..for the peace of limited darkness and light amid this violently erupting, expanding, contracting universe, has indeed settled here, where we are..settling within the quiet clearness of a gentle brook, within the cool morning mist over the stillness of a meadow the ebb of motion the tides of moon the evening, its silent darkness..and in the mid of day, as the brightness of our star penetrates the fragrance of a blossom. And far off upon many horizons, there is the lofty silence of mountain peaks, as they too, embody time. Upon this earthen place, enough time has passed in this manner..enough time for us to emerge in form, where toil and struggle in its brief stillness, feels the original peace upon this ship in space, where all has come to live and take root..where all cultures and all beliefs may live aside one another..where dictums of would'be kings and queens come to know themselves as part of a greater whole. Here, all forms of space and thought have their place and time and, their representatives. Therefore, no one way of single manner of doing will prevail over all ways of thought and manners of being..for living in freedom, a way of thought seeks naught, timelessness..but rather, the time and place it may begin, and the occasion to live and end in its own time. Freedom of thought, a manifesto of an inalienable right is defended by all, for all to be. The destiny that involves the stars and the expanding space of the universe will evolve from the bosom of its work, its love, and its vision

62  We, of the universe within, in order to form a greater union, to establish general principles of relativity, to secure and ensure domestic tranquility, hold this truth to be self evident...that each quest of thought is endowed with an inalienable right to pursue and assume the responsibility of any truth it should see, any compromise it should make, and to establish any belief or any variation thereof, that would be as unique and distinct as necessary, to bear the labors of its love, and receive the truth of its work

 For the end of such pursuits, to begin, we establish and ordain this constitution, these canons, for the integrity and soverignty of self'light within

 "That the 'all and everything' of creation, is all knowledge and ignorance, all space and power, with which, atonement is made

 "That love is need..the need to give, the need to receive for the sake of living the world we perceive..for love of life and love's labors, for freedom to be, to be any of these splendors

 "That what has been made conscience, can perceive only in terms of itself. The good and bad, perceives only the good and bad therefore, and only by evil conceived, can evil be perceived

 "To fear power, power shall rule. To conquer power, the power becomes you. To respect power, power benign. To ignore power..inert to all, for all time

63  By our Will, we live throughout the day, by month, by year..we are here in a larger world made by eons of trial, extinction, and new life within the nature of creation, where freedom of expression prevails. With each generation, variant expressions are favorably selected. Yet, we are not born in debt for life, for we are the life!..the life'giving entity. And we know the elegance of nature, we sense its devotion, its eternal song..because the stars also live! Their meditative chants are subtle, as their images of the past are fragile..and as they move throughout the celestial heavens, I feel the delicacy of their pervasive awareness. I feel it within each bit of substance, a faint awareness, this fleeting yet eternal existence, feeling the whole of creation, a genesis testament with thanksgiving

64  Dark force rising, always arising to remold self'molded knowledge. Like deep waves of earth passing down'under, the dark swiftly passes through the light of consciousness, the omnipresent darkness surrounds me..trembling mountains of certainty, are suddenly uplifted and set into motion, and the dark force swiftly penetrates self'sovereign light. The Earth shudders, and the solid floor pitches and rolls. The walls of an earth'sod room become the bulkheads of an unsteady ship. Terror obliterates time, and lost in eternal vagueness, triumphs momentarily, have no more weight than a fragile image of a distant star. Dark force rising, I feel beyond, and see past the brightness of illusion, into the darkness where the stars truly are. Apparitions of sensations. Unfamiliar faces appear and vanish. Faceless, darkness drips from sadness. A familiar feeling becomes a fleeting dream. Melodies are chanted over and over again. Their refrains become alluring grey moods laying me down, still'born..gently, in eternal sleep. Words in eternity, crippled truth..half'truth roars, but only a weak tremor of a bleating lamb is felt. Lost in hinterspace, impending doom..sovereign dictums impale the living flesh..searching, I am deeply pooling. The consuming dread has arisen. Solitary rhythms..aimless wanderings, a melody is searching for a greater world than itself. Rage! Indignation! Space'slicing being! Suddenly exposed, and from everywhere seen, crimson claws reach for me. Horrid, torrid fires scorch me. I move deep, deeply within. Swiftly moving in reverence to all, greater and greater, the depths I seek..the quiet, the sweet silent, the loving dark, I want the oblivion of sleep, to be where forever keeps. The grey walls rise. The poisoned air penetrates my eyes. Heavy metropolis heat feeds a violent war. Profound congestions of competing wants inspire chaos, and embittered eternities of hate, burn and smolder amid pungent odors of indignation, for the judgments of good and evil inherently larger than life, rage a relentless war. Good'evil, half'truth, a thorny flower from which, the living aura is so readily marred..that prickly hate, having laid to waste its object of evil, lays spent in its agony of peace. So many compulsive habits! So many restrictions and constrictions! So many conditions to simply live. Fear'stricken fantasy, shallow lungs gasp from acrid vapors. Suffocating darkness, a heavy darkness is where my heart should be. Floundering within a polluted sea of unconnected feelings, Armageddon, already old within me, is a spinning storm of wanton desire's searing cold. Deeply within I move, for so tired am I, the bones of my soul bleed from enduring Hate and its mate, Jealousy, having been pursued by all they beget..for immortality's sake. Hate is exceedingly proud, and fraught with a priestly guise. Hate is envious of power, it has not. To be clear and changeless, it must be un'evolving, it must lust for pleasure..and being timeless, it can only pre'judge, and in eternity, Hate knows Greed, for it always needs. Aye! Wearied am I, hollowed and absent. With only a bit of sleep's death could I find a temporary end to this eternal restlessness. So deep within am I, so far away from all, I am..this dark silence is heavy..the ecstasies high, having paid so dearly for themselves with vacuous pains, seem shallow, hollow, and faraway. Falling, warm darkness envelopes me. This deep within...I know not, when it began, nor when it will end! Within this dreamless dark, I am still and silent. My heart slowly opens within the darkness, and suddenly from it, a lethal light is cast..for love's lost had equaled love's gain suitably enough by some heavenly domain..and from its pain, and its fire, and from the ashes, I emerge a'new and behold..that the evils of the world are, in the eye of the beholders! Where it ends, I seek at'onement with all light. I seek peace with all that was, is, or could ever be. I seek where the moon shines quietly through the dark, and gives its life'giving light to the wandering rivers..laying its gentle substance onto fields of still grass, amid lofty trees, where its luminescence casts its silky essence upon the meadows..upon shallow waters, upon still'water ponds, where the fragrant floras breathe deeply, the peace of a translucent evening

65  The bonds to a boundaryless universe are limited to an array of inborn senses, limited portals into a universe outside, my world inside. Changing within, turning inward..senses are heightened, the world is broadened, I live its mysteries! From knighted stars, I feel the celestial history, drifting and streaming, and from a sea of starry images, the boundaries of mind are but primeval beginnings

 From the inside looking out..I, subconscious eye, feeling the life far distant throughout the heavens, feel it everywhere surrounding me, penetrating me..diffusing, permeating every bit of substance. In every direction, do journeys of self'light shape space and time, which are destined, with every diminishing turn of I, to scatter itself into bits of matter..until in time, those bits, ordered and arrayed, say.."I am"

 Within this sea of space, upon a vessel powered by a radiant star, the living journeys amid galaxies in constant motion. Ebbing and flowing with its tides, I move relatively fast as light toward one starry blue, or as fast away from another shifting red, or slow and still, relative to another shining bright. While feeling the soft swirling white in the sky, the deep bluing there..the quiet mountain grey, the rusted clay inspires the life'giving green to become evergreen. Over the seas, faithful moon chants to the living, and to the salted waters where all began. Both were persuaded to serve the land. I emerged from water to air, spirit unseen, always moving seeking every crevice, every rock, every height..desires in the night moved freely over gentle seas. Moved deeply, stately arbors whispering, swaying, life radiates, arms branching, mountain peaks shining..glistened white, radiance penetrates the cool stillness there. The sun lingers, the waters gather..dripping, descending, streaming..wandering journey, gathering and regathering, swiftly moving, the Earth gives, the waters are carried..Earth and water, forever married. And high above, the waters gather until bursting clouds descend upon barren land. The silent cactus, the prickly skin swelling, refreshened, alive..sultry heat seeks the shade, spent waters having gained, stillness penetrates a dust'ridden mind. Darkened clouds, thundering quakes, falling waters, river wakes. Mountain valleys..the floras, the faunas, still lake..chanting memories, prophecies make. The moon is turning, seagulls wandering, arbors grip the Earth and hold fast. The fruit is eaten, the seeds are taken. Cold winter, the Earth has darkened..the leaves have fallen, the trees shedded..leaves to dust, dust to air, moist dark Earth..sweet waters adrift over land so fair. Over hills, over plains, earth'scented spirit into the sky, misty waters wandering high..primordial salt, fragrant sea..enters my blood, my soul, my spirit to be. And from the shoals of sea and spirit of ocean's deep, a small pond is left behind, upon a dust'barren desert. An old sage bull kneels by the shallow pond, tasting the waters for the last time. Scavengers patiently wait for the spirit to leave. Cautiously, the scavengers approach, and the water vapors ascend. Dormant shell, abandoned vessel, spirit akin to the wind. The waters pass from life to the spirit, over land and sea, from mountain peak to peak, across the sea to foreign land..into thickening clouds and descending waters, into deep quiet lakes, dark and unseen. The leaves unfold. The hungry diligently consume its green. The waters are collecting and falling, far distant and high where the sky touches the stars, and nearby, upon the soil within every crevice, every become a part of a rock and feel the deep molten heart of Earth. Turning darkly within itself, the waters remain within the grasp of Earth until the moon brightens, and the waters heighten, and the streams swell..the river wanders, the arbors sway to songs of the wind, wandering the Earth, there and back again

 And the Earth wanders also, through an ocean of space, for it is the ark..carrying countless ways of life, and the vision, life itself, also upon a journey. Such is the way of life..ceaseless journey, restful sleep

REV:  Aug 2017

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