Life is not a resource. Life is being…Trees—fish—animals—reptilian alive—life. Since life is being then everything on this precious earth and in our sweet oceans—lakes and rivers are beings. We too are members of this stream and our existence and freedom and balance are interlocked in these motions and rhythms and rhymes. Dependents we are and we rejoice in the music of nature’s symphony and universal spirit-speak.
Life is not a resource. Forests are not board-feet. Our precious animals are alive and well and multiplying within circle-life and when undisturbed; are balance and the harmony of earth twirl and whirl across space—required for survival and never a commercial aggravation of money changers and the idiocy of gain. Precious must be protected; used by wise beings, removed from destruction and worshiped as our only method to survive future days or nights. Unless! Flash we stop and our carbon-based trickle ceases equal value and determination.
Life is not a resource. When forest covered this place—land once stripped is now concrete jungles and scattered sky-buildings layered from portions of little to—too much. Resource-speak twisted this place into battlefields and crime and punishment and the damage of civilization and the end of peace. Nations began with ‘battle-cries of freedom’ and the blood of poor laborers and slaves created hope for many and freedom for few. Life is not to be purchased or sold.
Life is not a resource. The middle of an Eastern portion of a world spinning across a universe of space and time and landfall and splendor has a determination created by a Western ideology so foreign and devoid of principle that Sociocide is a study in collateral damage and a ‘resourceful’ necessity. Egypt—Palestine—Lebanon—Syria—Iraq—Iran and…Presently; these wars are battles of imbalance created by this terror from the West. Someday soon—this will pass…Life is sacred and family is love!
Life is not a resource—and Colonialism is the destruction of Society. Western civilization believes life is resource. However; life is interlocked and dependent and precious. Resource is another tool for wealth creation and the capitalization of destruction. Until decisions of an illogical accumulation of life as resources cease, the world will gain nothing and the drones of war will continue forever.
Life is not a resource. May we all become an inspiration of balance and love? Remember we are creations of creative folk—never alone. We are spirits and joined to every living thing—seen and also not observed. We are animals and fish and reptiles and trees and flowers and skies and moons and suns and stars and planets across many miles inside universes of many miles.
Are we not everlasting spirit-life in an eternal place wherever these places remain? Now! Cover us with moonlight and star bright—as we angel-dance in misty air and yesterday’s futures—tomorrow.
A time of early morning when sounds are soft against ear and movement does not play darts and goes and stop and start. A time to reflect or not to think but to happen as life happens in the sweet flow of quiet seashore in bright moon’s light. Waves even—gently lick the places of sand castles fading as eastern stars’ faint twinkle and the roars of today’s day touch the future and stops.
We—barefoot children of yesterday, leave the mere and slightest of indention in a sand semi-wet and cool from the absence of sunshine.
We—the children of another dawn, touch hand or swish jacketed shoulder once or twice or often without the counting of times or steps or memories. We are the happening of breath and silhouettes angled away from us by the western moon to fade or go by whimsy cloud or art.
Smiles not required and laughter not heard, not from or by our own design or folly. We are born of yesterday’s parents and tomorrow’s ruin. However—right on this moment and now on this side of second slide, we birth this moment or instance or day or past night’s hour.
We—live only of this stretch of sand and along with the catching up of tides flow believe the ice and water before and behind us are our ground and our chapter of seasons lived and written against the sands of shifting grain and the wind.
Care for life and alive and steeped in the reality of earth-beat and washed in the eternity of spirit and even alone—never lonely or forgotten with passing days or endless years of grooved space and the distance between here and there and everywhere.
And! Lion’s sandy paws follow our fading footsteps washed away by gentle surf and the settle of a constant settlement of earth and sky. We—you and I are instantly together and drawn by this moment and the notion of the simplicity of knowing we are beings beneath the fading light of moon and the coming of dawn-light and shadow. Those fading prints of sandy paws disappear and Lion call echoes somewhere across the bay. It is the music of this night and the rhythm of today.
A Love is an exception to what we usually sense!
We watch an umbrella two to share. Arms around first shoulder
and then waist. A lean each toward other. A cheek, a brush of
mouth to skin. Walking, hair-to-hair and hip-to-hip.
So! Love today is an Accepted exception…