Thunder spirit touched the sky and turned spaced pink air into sanguine fuel and Ark flashed from rusty red to a twirling orb of green and blue and white and home again around rising Sirius sun and the ringing gauze of Saturn’s winds. Eyes close the light to sleep and cross the space-time of child dream and memory wash and slips of fantasy—kiss touch and eyelash stir and those lifting merges…Life.
Now launch code filled balloons both alpha and numeric and fluidic and lined in rows of switched crosses across a drop of length between space and press and touch and the distance between winter’s flakes of snow. While dancing dream’s mind-merge, spirit winds a clock of choices known by forgotten dust-swirls and desert wind and salted sea as foam merges with sandy shore.
Beyond slicks of rain bounced by moonlight against a trillion miles of asphalt roads where tiny sprites of weed push through and break the symmetry of path, life is once again the birthing of nature’s chaos and nothing is as natural as the creating of creation. Life’s power is the eternal notions of goddesses and gods and witches and warlocks and wizards and shamans—the sanguinity of woman and man and the dynamics of Love. And remember! Love is sexless and without form and without flesh and when shaped by humanity; it is magic and required, as carbon based beings require air and blood.
Earth formed as we formed as precious life forms-form and we name and speak and love or hunt and save or devour or spare or care as those others find us or avoid us or hunt or devour us in a chaos of circles dancing around a mystery of times beginning and ending and starting and stopping and chasing creation across an apparent universe of the known and the forgotten times of today’s yesterdays and tomorrow’s days of future’s stop/start. Ad infinitum or maybe into the Nemo of universes unknown or never where except…
When Ark-stops and day begins the pristine pleasures of challenged beginnings; we the indigents of life, pause and listen and as crawling infants we find our children of the parents of this new day—peering into the light or darkness. Now! Speeding to this place; to some new thing—to some new tear or scent or sight—to a new blue sea or an isle of emerald green—we will touch; hand-to-hand and heart-to-heart and jump through space and complete time’s sweet rifts and swifts.
We are the goddesses/gods/witches/warlocks/wizards/magicians and creation’s creators. We are the spirit wind in the valley and the desert and across plains of grass and mountains both under the sea and rising into space. We of many names or descriptions both feared and loved are Life. We are the forever Art of this forever Universe.
And! Beautiful you are…
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