To love each other
Without any higher
We all must learn
so that we may
Altogether as One,
For only then will we
You are eclectic
and so damn electric
run through blue veins
like a quick junk fix,
sent up to heaven
on a bent rainbow,
we’re magnets babe
but I don’t think you know it…
There are no true conclusions.
There is no better high than being alive to the night.
Melodic vibes and aquatic jives of the glass mirror fish rippling river
reflecting pines with hanging vines under
the moonlit bridge awakens
now open to All.
The cool summer breeze breathes music of sound downstream
carried along in a whisper,
a sweet whistle from nature’s harmonic composition.
A family of majestic deer peak their heads up from grazing grass,
Frogs and toads hum and croak their tones
taking turns in tongue one by one
Ribbit ribbit ribbit,
a song is born in the thistle and foliage.
Little Crickets, fiddle grasshoppers, and Texas birds chime in with their chirps
as all those other sorts of animals and bugs buzz a gentle tzzztzzztzzz-tztztztzzzzz
that lulls the universe into deep slumber.
Stellar quasars light the Worlds all over,
but heard from in ear here,
clear perfect purity.
And as I gaze upon that great afar I begin to wonder
"Maybe they’re no different from we,
Many are well known above
given nomenclature of stars
which we have always looked up to
as greater beings,
apart of famous constellations
that we emulate, celebrate, or praise.
Although there are those who remain
anonymous inhabiting space yet never unseen
just overlooked like the passerby or the peddler
on a busy street,
The trees in winter, The leaves of summer,
the sting of heat, the beat, the elbow grease,
and the flower field of birds and bees,
and all else that falls in between.
Ugly or beauty call it what you will
or provide it a name but
you must appreciate all these things
living in our time and place
for our stars are alive in diamond skies of night
shining for all of us so that we are reminded of our own creation,
our purpose here,
and so that we may also remember
there is nothing to fear
and death is just a passage into the immortal circle of Life.
I chuckle as I listen,
I dream keen reality from eyes,
Sweet sweet reverie soon to be
forever seen oneness.
A lovely find of mind,
right on time
the dying meteor crashes
as the children make their wishes.
A prayer is answered.
I am I
and that is All,
no -ist, -an, or this from a list
just a simple drip of water
on the Ocean’s horizon.
Small emerald frog hopping along the river bank making way into murky waters of dusk reflecting San Antonio trees and chirping scissor tailed birds of Texas paradise flying across a calm glassy mirrored surface. A sudden splash sends ripples spreading silent circles toward my bare feet submerged in green algae as I smile and feel the windy breeze as I’ve never felt before.
Where dost she blow,
where doth the time go…
To continue persistently throughout life along the path of learning, observing, developing, and changing oneself to grow closer toward the ideal of truth or God is that path of the eternal, for the spirit of education is immortal.
The only made mess is one of permanence but since change is the only constant then I guess a mess made is soon to be cleaned or forgotten.
Of all that is written, I love only what a person hath written with his blood. Write with blood, and thou wilt find that blood is spirit.
Thus Spake Zarathustra