Lights at World End…

Ships_427‘Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea today and follow tide…Come to harbor  sirens call…Shining candles and harbor flash…From sea to safety side tonight.’

Lights at the end of the world. Now! See those lights across these thousand worlds—welcome home to places you have started and places to begin again or again or on another day’s end and another night’s beginning. Drums to market those marks of time we call our own as heart beats—it starts again and ticks for awhile of wills coming around the corners of spaces in places seen or forgotten or found once for many crossings of spaces and races and time.

Steel Riders pause by waterside as tides of water—kiss shoreline wave length along with one hundred sounds and as gulls ride the dips of above and around piers of ruined wood and splintered ages where once the Calimesa City existed and tide changes mattered to boat anchored and ships sailing against the evening lines. The water’s edge and the skies of blue and pink and red and orange and yellow—as earth spins sets sunlight to softness and twinkles of sky lighted canvas sheets the blue-gray into darkness and stars light the sailor’s way along the caverns of space and place and the race of time.

These are the salty ways of salted sea and flecks of foam scatter along shore-sided shifts of sand from wet to dry and dune rise above and beyond watered edges before ruined boardwalks remind nothing of something once savored and watched and known by forgotten ones—once upright writers of the times and the sounds of ‘days of a future’s past.’ Still! We all cross spaces along these places of the races in time gathered and night ships crossing heaven’s ragged ridges…

Slaves of speed and those things filling corners of house scattered and caves overwhelmed by many needs requiring covers to crawl into and away from storm’s wrath—drenched in sweat and rain and dried with winds of howling sounds and lighted by the flash of light streams—traced along the edges of cloud swirl and twirl and reflected from a trillion eyes shining bright into those nights of storm and clutter and later—mist lifts from a million places outside caves and houses and homes now forgotten and almost gone.

Robot now and then and once again when creature walks splendid winds across another place of times remembered and the stories of this and that are told by any-to-any-listening to robot tales and adventures as the course of discourse is launched through songs of sailor’s speak and wig-waggled across a thousand skies complete with warrior legends and the strength of priestess kiss and home returns. We all sail here—the sailors of these moments—friends and family and the you of me and the me of us and all—eternal spirits we be the power of life—inside folded space or outside yonder rim-spin—we are…

This time of days of times ago and present time, the old man vision touched those other ones and whispered, “Not this time—Not this time—our children will not go to war.” Others knew that this time of times would not be the time for dead children and metal touch-to-flesh-madness—For these moments in time—warriors were not necessary…

And! Beautiful you are…

‘The Islander’—by Nightwish