‘Life is a Dream—Realize it’…Mother Teresa
Once! Calimesa City was a small port town scattered along the fishing piers and docks of an Emerald Sea called Simprus. Ocean Simprus connected worlds-to worlds-around a twin mooned planet far touched yet still inside a Galaxy of Milk. Throughout the whirly-twirly of a single day folks rose— consumed—worked—consumed again—and cared and thought and dreamed and made love and fell asleep—satiated weary or tired. Others spent times away and copied daytime dances into night long labors and dreams and love and thought and twirled the whirl of short nights and sleepless days.
Aminadora stood in Land’s Court and courted a notion of national worth or a woman’s right to sing in harmony with free life and child speak. She voiced power and the logic understood by those witches-of-creation and instead of swords to kill—medicine became strong and well mixed with balance and cure—even the children of war-weary places smiled. Since! Many have fallen and died in scatters across so many spinners of ground and sea and tree and created along sky-ridges of cloud puff and star trails—these star trails traveled by ships of fire and scout’s chariots for reasons lost or found or again lost. And! Still along these ways and many spins—children of war and creatures of sorrow smile when medicine is balanced and the mixtures of steel and flesh cease—ends.
Simprus Sea floated water boats and ships of travel and commerce as trading carried both witches and creators of goods across lines of sky and water to many places too many times to be new-renewed or rediscovered. Golden shades of rock and change of currency once stored by few—powered the many to cliffs of silver stores and caves below life’s reason to know sunlight kisses against warming cheeks and muscles sore through labor’s greed and timing slowest creep. Food supplied from plants of land–reached and needed—as sailors discovered reasons to stay and trade balanced the in-between of have and not and wanted before the light of early dawn and evening time.
‘Brush to lids of my own eyes with sweet your lips and touch deep my heart with spirit dance your strength as my own often fails. We—you and I—do spin worlds together and taste soft wine in starlight bright and setting moon so large that reflected eyes lock these mind spaces in forever memories of life. ‘Tis—good this dream…’Tis sweet this Night…’
And! Beautiful you are…
‘Photo’ by Iain McKell
‘While Your Lips are still Red’ by Nightwish
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