“The circle safely closed—the web building starts—the markers of builders old and builders new. Star Guide—folded into original shape— until it is—again required and opened to read and follow—‘cross sky-bridge….Bang-Bang-Bang and let the game begin—again…‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this Time—this Twine—Re-wind. Again to be—to see…of loving the loving…of hands joined-to-body moving…of swings and wings and…Spirit-singing and peaceful sighing…Creation—the Witch smile and for this instant within a moment of Time—‘Tis’ good this Loving Rhyme. So! Follow this time—this Twine Re-wind.” ‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

We wait for these places to arrive and places to be in a somewhere—that matters—to-go-to-be or to start again—we are always going somewhere in-time or arriving—just-in-time—in place or—just maybe-on-time. Remains—or-go-or-here—to-there—or back-again and placed upon a wig-waggle–earth-type—for air—or a place somewhere—a tuck—just inside the sky. And! This is just-in-time to be divine—in another place—spaced somewhere in heaven’s sky or another place-of- race—unconsciously mattered or not knowing the reason or the why of not being or being another shape—shaped just-in-time. ‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

Sometimes—long ago as places collide—whispers and shape shifters—gather inside iron birds’ skyward leaps—‘cross short spaces of rhythm and ocean stringers as rivers’ reach and calls through the—sweet voiced magic—of witches—telling us to—welcome home. Tiny-little-ones ‘we be—standing together—just before the voyage of—petri dish wonders—cross vast seas of water and air and care and wonder—below star lights and just above angel reaches—teaches the storms’ light—fright—slight—and might. And! We leave to never return—is recall—the fall of us and them and we—to venture—sea—of memory lost or forgotten or remembered again that Imagination is its own form of Courage. ‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

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? ‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

Love! Is the spirit of heart and soul—does not require name or title or reason or permission or through the grace of… No! Things called government—nor religious-named—nor senate—nor congress—nor court—nor king—nor country—has right-or-reason-to-legislate-or-forbid the Power-of-Love… Ecliptic twirl and galaxy cross—spaces when composite—forms appear-to-disappear—Serpent speak and Eagle reach—Ophiuchus—holder—or bold—once again— Quetzalcoatl boys and fair Gaia girls—wander star-gates through—and touch-find—found reaches—useless rhythms and trouble—times. Or— Ophiuchus high— stands above sun—rises—feet crossed—Galactic wider and planetary—substance filled from brim-to-rim and back-again…Animals arrive—small ones and large ones—eternal spirits—always going somewhere—to remain—to leave—to arrive-to-leave and to return—again…Madness of believing—in order—when order is—only pleasant chaos…And! Eternal Spirits—we—are always going somewhere…Or maybe! We are always—just—heading home…‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

Roll-rocks-‘sweet-child-of-mine’ own whirling-twirling worlds where over many stones—gather children sun-lighted-secrets of time and tales and stories fine—waiting just outside a door-to-open again—to friend—to bend—flower touch—at rainbow bridge-ridge above valley—or beneath sapphire inked sky and twin moon high…Rather sail—another land—beneath other sky—to—dance ring ’round rouses—rock-roll—small hand touch— to-place-to-enjoy—warm summer night breezes—hair dancing ‘cross small faces— hiding eye just before hair is brushed away—to better see—life-to-be…‘While I breathe—I Hope…’

“If a state is to avoid the greatest plague of all—I mean civil war, though civil disintegration would be a better term—extreme poverty and wealth must not be allowed to arise in any section of the citizen body, because both lead to both these disasters.”—Plato regarding the dangers of inequality…

“Hope is your survival
A captive path I lead
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a long-long time
No matter where you go
I will find you
If it takes a thousand years… from ‘I Will Find You ’_Clannad

And! Beautiful you are…

‘I Will Find You’—by Clannad