Sky-Light Ribbon is a river of stars and just a slip-slide from—Ideal death…When plague wars and gun wars and drone wars and political wars and the war-of-use-to-be-still-is-always-will-be—Imperialism—Capitalism—Colonialism—Socialism—Communism—a hoping breeze of cool choice—choosing—and just a slip-slide from that Ideal Death… Carbon Based beings are born capable of immediate—friendly attitudes—a survival mechanism or just a simple ‘reach-touch-out’— to other eternal spirits?

Grass—carpet floors of high to sky mountain flats—red sand shifts—when raining seasons begin—the fall of liquids both silver-clear and diamond-splash—across the drinking desert of sand and sea—as jungle sleeps. Once hearted fears—did not exist—within the laughing times of fearless pursuit and the unrequited necessities of being—the beginning of—being the life of long summer moments and winter shorts—when snow covers the dreaming spaces of—sands and purple seas.

Do believe—from windows—and across the bay— dancers’ stage and cage—beyond believers of dawn—cross—these water-gates in boat crafts and—do anchor—along the sandy shoreline. In these model times—love push—swings without color desires—save to be and swing those roped contraptions—higher and higher and higher and to fly—among white billowed clouds and raindrops—dew-dropped in those spaces along these places.

Shift into the object of another day with—accepted expectations—extraordinary moments—original thought and lights of splendidly created—creations through perceptions of flashing— preconceived originality and overloaded repeaters across a wondrous land of sugar and cinnamon-spiced tea or coffee or me or you or us or…in the becoming of a notion—immortally important and into legacy’s realm—repeated and recalled and repeated…Amen! Ashes-to-ashes and dust-to-dust-new-ways-to-win—we must be us?

The where-in-the-world—to—appear is no irritation to the matter-of-the-matter. The ‘I’ of us has never survived without the everywhere of everyone in everyplace—across the sky and below and above the lights of moon—stars and suns’ dances—beyond the imagined realms of universal distance and the figures of figures wrapped around a third planet from here-to-there and again to another planet of wondering folks alive in both spaces and places and time.

There is city—Calimesa. A place of Crowman day and Crowman night and a place of haunted hunts and battles of no-foe. A timed place and—still—jack-booted terror stands on—the sacred throats of freedom fighters and paints the ruined roadways—with blood and mud and mire and hire—ditches with filthy ragged cloth and stains—once clean spaces—being days before political crazy collapses—dies and disappears. Wouldn’t that be nice—donchathink? And! Remember these names: Yeonmi Park—Thor Halvorsen—Maria Alyokhina—Mikhail Khordorkovsky—Bassem Youssef—Nadezhda Tolokonnikoa—Erdem Gunduz—Janet Hinostroza—Yulia Marushevska…

We—live only—along this stretch of sand and—along with the catching up of tide flow—believe the ice and water before and behind us are—our ground—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.

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.

And! Beautiful you are…

‘A Sky Full of Stars’…Written and performed by ‘Coldplay’